


Walk away from the sun

by Bernardina



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-07-28 05:37:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16235249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bernardina/pseuds/Bernardina
Summary: Fabrizio works in a music store, wears sleeveless t-shirts and has too many tattoos. Ermal plays in a band, hides his body under sweaters and hates inked skin. The only things uniting them are troubled past and a wolf marking their shoulders. Or is it all?





	1. Non vedo più il sole

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys!  
> This is my first multichaptered fic, I don't know how fast I'll update or how long it will be. I'll try to do it regularly, but I'm chaotic evil, so no promises here.  
> Warning: there's a lot of angst here. I won't make things very dark, but it's not sunshine and rainbows at all.  
> I'd say this is not typical soulmate au, so I'd suggest not to expect anything (I don't want to receive death threats later, thank you very much).  
> I shamelessly took the title from Seether's song with the same name, but the song itself has little to do with this mess. Every chapter's title will also be a lyric. This one's is from Dove ti troverò by Ameba4.  
> And... I'm sorry? My brain is sick, so here we are.

Oh shit. Not again.

Fabrizio tried to suppress a groan, when another summer hit replaced the previous one. If not for the slight beat change, he wouldn’t even have noticed that the last song had stopped playing. The same generic music, the same lyrics about love, sunshine and eternal happiness with someone smiling and good-looking, repeated too many times to still hold at least some kind of meaning. He didn’t believe in love songs, those sappy and too perfect ones. Some would say he didn’t believe in love at all, to which he just shut those “some”s up and told them to go back to work. Luckily, his tormentors were now too busy to mock him about romance (or, rather, lack of it) in his life.

This music store was so much more to him than just a workplace,and he always chuckled whenever a memory of how he got there in the first place was shown in his head, like an old silly film you keep rewatching not because you’re invested in the plotline or the characters, not because it’s that good (it’s really not), but as you felt joyful while seeing it for the first time and you want to get that sensation back. His life always revolved around music, and subconsciously he gravitated to people who shared that interest. One of them, Claudio, who was now helping a girl choose her first guitar and trying so hard not to roll his eyes at the glares of her overprotective father, was one of a few friends, who stayed with him for years without ever turning their back on him, so when the guy suddenly needed someone to cover for him, Fabri agreed without thinking for a second. And he purposely ignored the fact that Claudio’s “come on, boss won’t know anything, don’t sweat about it” sounded more like “please, you'll hate me for this, but I really need to go”.

Apparently loving music to the core and knowing a lot about it wasn’t enough to be perfect. Fabrizio nearly knocked over a few CDs, which resulted to almost having a panic attack thinking of this mysterious boss, who, according to his friend’s colleagues, was strictly against the idea of strangers messing with her stuff, and had his share of clients looking at him dumbfounded, when he couldn’t find the disk lying right on his desk, but overall experience was pleasant. Getting to a clean peaceful place after working shifts at dirty crowded bars, where nightlife of all sorts was happening behind closed doors, felt like a breath of fresh air after inhaling smoke for so long. When there was a job open, he quit and came to the shop, where, surprisingly, was accepted almost immediately.

The eagerness was understood pretty soon: the store wasn’t at its best state, and times were so tough most workers decided to leave. Turning back now seemed like a cowardly move, and Fabrizio desperately tried to tell himself he was anything but a coward, so he gave all his strength if not to bring the glory back to the place, then at least make it look presentable, and with major help from Claudio he succeeded. The boss (who turned out to be quite a lovely woman, when not surrounded by constant stress) noticed his efforts and was beyond impressed. Giada, as she told him to call her without being “unnecessarily official”, became a good friend to him and always had his back. She never held a grudge, when he left on impulse, tried to get into a university, dropped out, went back to his old hobbies and familiar surroundings, barely got out before wild underground life swallowed him completely and came to the address his memory held dearly, again. This happened a few times, and while Giada never gave up on him, he still had to earn her respect and show he was capable of handling his own emotions and not let it affect his work. And he did. Seeing Giada and Claudio smiling and waving at him five mornings out of seven in a week made him feel proud of himself, and chased away the haunting thoughts about what he had to overcome to be greeted with these small signs of reassurance.

“Buonasera”, suddenly a voice interrupted his thoughts. Fabrizio looked up from his desk and met the deep brown eyes of a stranger, obviously, another customer. Is it evening already? With all this zoning out he completely lost track of time. Hopefully, he’s not going to embarrass himself in front of the man, who was now curiously eyeing him, a smirk appearing on his lips. In the middle of thinking what was so funny Fabrizio forgot he had to answer and simply stared at the stranger, who apparently didn’t mind and wasn’t intimidated at all.

“Welcome. Can I help you? What’re you looking for?” Fabrizio tried to gain composure and managed to make his answer sound normal. Even if he felt like he was dragged from the bottom of the ocean to the surface, there was no need to shout it from the rooftops.

“Actually, yes, you can. Do you by any chance have discs of young Italian bands? Ameba4, perhaps?”

Ameba4? Now Fabrizio was truly confused. He surely never heard the name, and he didn’t remember coming across any discs of that band. Looking through the catalogue confirmed his fears. And now he was put in a situation he particularly hated. Every time he couldn't find something was an absolute torture, as it never failed to awaken that little high-pitched voice in his head screaming into his ears he’ll never be good enough, he'll never do his job properly, Giada took him back out of pity, and the guys talk to him only because it’s easier to work together without unnecessary conflicts. Fabrizio had to stop himself from letting out a sharp breath as he mentally punched himself for getting carried away for the second time in the evening.

“I’m afraid we don’t have Ameba4. But new records come often. Here, I'll show you the section.”

He clumsily went from behind of his desk to the opposite wall where the discs were orderly put together by Roberto. How a man with such chaotic energy managed to be so careful still remained a mystery. When he wasn’t employed and came to visit Fabrizio from time to time, Giada laughed and called him no other name than “that guy with the hat twice the size of our store”. And after many years of working his habit didn’t die, Fabri could see his sparkling cylinder swaying to the rhythm of music on the radio. Giada tried to make him be more disciplined, but after she had learnt people started coming to the shop only to see the living legend Roberto Maccaroni and his no less legendary fashion sense, she only rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a satisfied grin. On one of their parties with silly games and too much wine Claudio dared her to apologize to the hat, and they still regretted not filming it, as Giada put on the performance of the lifetime. However, since then the store’s owner engaged in her employees’ activities very carefully and seldom, but that’s another story.

Cazzo. He got distracted again. Damn Roberto and his almighty hats. Fabrizio shook his head, trying to shove the unwelcome images away. Finally he managed to grab a few CDs, which he was fond of, and relied on his natural ability to talk about music without sounding like a boring professor or like a teenager with a crush. His customer looked at the discs, observing them quietly and smiling a little. Fabrizio needed to focus on something, so that he wouldn't zone out again, and the man’s curls seemed like a good spot to watch. He resembled a little bush with all this hair falling down on his face and making his forehead practically invisible. When the man nodded at one of Fabrizio’s remarks about guitar sound, his curls bounced and strangely reminded Fabri of jumping toys his little niece liked to play with. This thought was dangerous, he was at risk of losing the trail of what he needed to say once more.

“I’ll buy these ones. Thank you.”

Fabri exhaled as he realised his torture was over and it wasn’t even in vain. He quickly did his job as a cashier and gave the man now his CDs. The customer smiled and shook his head at the suggestion of getting a little box for discs, making his curls bounce again, earning a poorly suppressed giggle from the seller, which of course didn’t go unnoticed. Fabrizio mentally cursed himself for not keeping the wild mess in his head together and put all the remaining efforts into easing the awkwardness.

“Come again! There’s a good chance that we’ll have Ameba4.”

The man promised he’d visit the shop and disappeared behind the door, which closed without any sound. Fabrizio quickly turned his gaze away before he would’ve started to analyse whether this type of doors was suitable for the store (it actually wasn’t, being eyed by passersby like some sort of exhibit was incredibly uncomfortable). He needed this day to be over, and he needed it right away.

At home he searched Ameba4 on his computer, making typos three times and almost hitting the cold-hearted device in frustration. Finally he came across a strange, quite shady-looking website, which, however, had the band’s discography. Fabrizio put his headphones on and clicked the “play” button. It was quite dark already, but he didn’t feel like turning the lights on. More like, he couldn't, frozen in his seat, hypnotized by calm rhythm and simple lyrics hitting something inside him. He turned the volume louder to avoid any other sounds, especially his own deep sighs, as if he was trying to consume every last bit of air in the room. He looked straight at the screen, not seeing words but only letters, barely registering the songs changing. It felt like a trance, the only difference was that he couldn't completely clear his thoughts, his brain unapologetically offering more and more images.

Dove ti troverò  
Dove sei  
In quale angolo  
Degli occhi miei

She was called… No, it didn’t matter. But he liked the way her name rolled off his tongue, as he greeted her, and she smiled before letting him softly kiss her cheek. She was beautiful, no, stunning, but that didn't matter too. Her skin was smooth and delicate, she wasn’t fond of tattoos and flinched at the sight of Romina’s needles Fabrizio liked to observe. There was a fire in her eyes, something that brought his attention the first time he laid his eyes upon her. The only mark her body had was a little red tulip on her right shoulder. _The mark._

When she saw him shirtless, she couldn’t turn her gaze away from the angry roaring wolf on the exact same spot her flower spread out its petals. Then she started pulling away from his kisses and slipping from his arms. The she stopped smiling and only nodded whenever they met. Then she told him it would be better, if he never contacted her again. Easier for both of them. _Just because he didn’t have a fucking tulip on his shoulder._

Sei una scatola  
Nelle mie mani che  
Non so aprire più  
Dove sei, dove sei

He forgave her, yes. The stupid system defining people by whatever nature drew on their skin - no. He wanted to rip the whole universe, he wanted to tear the outside world to pieces. Instead he only cut the sleeves of every t-shirt he had in his closet and threw them away, so everyone could know what they wanted to know the most about him, so he’d never have to try to erase the damn mark again only to realise the result is nothing more than a few drops of blood falling down his arm, red as her fucking flower. His wolf roared at the strangers, making most of them stop communicating with him after noticing the fury in its eyes. Fabrizio felt himself turning into the beast he was inseparable with, the same anger, the same fire, the same…

In one movement he took the headphones off and barely stopped himself from smashing them on the table. Damn this band. Damn this curly man. Damn this store. Damn everything. _“Damn you, Fabri. You never learn."_ He could really use a glass or two of something strong to calm down. The only thing waiting on the kitchen counter was a small bottle of water. He laughed before emptying it. The decision not to keep alcohol in the house couldn't choose a better time to remind of itself.

“But the guy has good taste. I really should talk to Giada about those discs”, he thought as he successfully threw the bottle right into the trash can.


	2. I can not promise I'll smile but I can promise I'll try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabrizio is struggling with the new sensations, and the familiar customer returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left comments/kudos!  
> I'll try to make a regular update schedule, but I can't really promise anything.  
> There was supposed to be more Ermal in this chapter, but then it became longer than I expected, so it the next one you'll see more of him.  
> The title is from Delain's Danse Macabre.

A woman with a blindingly bright red bag. Two guys and a girl stopping for a second but then hurrying somewhere again. A couple with a little boy. A group of people passing by without looking through the glass doors. Fabrizio was bored. He always felt trapped behind this desk, not having a chance to get away or do anything in his sudden spare time. He envied Claudio for being able to take a guitar they had in the store only for themselves and play. If only he could go back to the time where his record-selling experience wasn’t that bad: he was studying the sections, finding disks peaking his interest or laughing at the strange artwork.

“Hey, guys, look at this cover!”

“Please, never show anything like that again.”

Fabrizio chuckled at the memory. After last night he needed an enormous dose of these bright flashes of life to hide the strong craving for whiskey to burn his throat and distract him from the fact that yesterday he couldn’t suppress the anger and gave in to an old habit of screaming into the wall. He pictured the reactions of his family and friends to seeing him at that moment. Romina’s clenched jaw and her heavy silence, like she completely stopped breathing. Claudio’s quiet footsteps, as he would take his hand and lead him to the door to go for a walk without asking questions and without letting him slip away to scratch old scars again. Giada’s deep sigh and her signature expression, too tired to be a frown, too tense to appear calm. Roberto’s soft pat on the back and tight hugs lasting for as long as needed for the hurricane of his emotions to die. No matter how much they all tried to assure him it never happened, he was certain the thought that he is an abomination crossed all their minds at least once.

From the corners of his eyes Fabrizio could see the silhouette of someone standing outside the store for too long to be a simple customer having doubts about entering. Fabri promised Giada not to scare anyone off, but he couldn’t help glaring at the man, who was doing nothing other than watching him attentively. Suddenly the man smiled, and Fabrizio rushed to the door.

“Andrea! You actually returned!”

“Fabri, you’ll choke me!” Andrea laughed as he opened his arms to hug his now a lot less irritated friend. “I’ve only recovered from a broken leg, I don’t need my ribs to break too.”

Fabri let him go only to hug once more, gentler this time, instead of throwing himself at the man again.

“You sound surprised. Did you forget I was coming?”

Fabrizio hid his face in the crook of Andrea’s neck and felt his friend’s body shaking with laughter. Of course, today was Tuesday, which meant Andrea was finally let out of hospital and free to walk again without difficulties. And obviously, the first day after that he came back to the store despite Claudio’s concern, and the shop became full of endless calm energy the absence of which could be smelled in the air for the last few weeks. And maybe Fabri was just a tiny bit selfish to be glad that Andrea would take his place at the records section.

“You were whining about feeling like a caged animal for days, and now you don’t even remember when you’re going to be set free”, Alessandro, one of the younger members of their work team, playfully nudged Fabri’s shoulder before joining the hug. It became their tradition, a special greeting with everyone involved. Soon almost everyone was hugging at the entrance, completely ignoring the confused stares from passersby.

“Wait for me! Why am I the one put in the furthest corner?” Roberto was running to them, gracefully avoiding obstacles and sliding at the particularly slippery bit of floor.

“Wow. Didn’t know you were a pro figure skater”, Fabrizio embraced the man, pulling him closer.

“Be careful though. We all know how the last time I tried that move went!” Andrea giggled, which caused a wave of everybody's laughter. It was common for them to do stupid things at their little gatherings, but coming up with the competition of who can run to the bottom of the hill faster, while it was still ice on some tiny spots of ground, was too much even for them. Luckily, they weren’t drunk enough to mistaken Andrea’s scream of pain for happiness of victory.

“You all still owe me a wine bottle as a prize”, the winner raised his eyebrows in suggestion. “And I’m not willing to share, you dragged me into this.”

After another round of laughter everyone went to their places, Andrea moving behind the desk, patting Fabri on the shoulder and hearing his grateful little sigh, Claudio leading Fabri to the guitars section, his hand placed on his friend’s back, as he walked slightly behind as if helping Fabrizio with directions. Once they reached their destination, Claudio sat on one of the chairs and looked him straight in the eye.

“Something is going on with you, isn’t it? You’re not being yourself.”

Fabrizio averted his gaze and swallowed. It’s not that he was intimidated by Claudio’s ability to discover the slightest change in his mood - they’ve been friends for so long he had more than enough time to get used to these powers of observation - but he didn’t want to bother one of the few people, who were willing to lend a hand no matter what.

“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing bad.”

Claudio softly shook his head and smiled.

“If you don’t want to talk, just say it. You know I won’t make a scene. You don’t need excuses”, he took Fabri’s hand in his and gently squeezed it before letting go. Claudio hated lying, that Fabrizio had to learn the hard way, after a few broken promises and hurtful disappointment in his friend’s eyes. Straightforward and solid as a rock, Claudio was the one to schedule doctor appointments and then dragging his friend there despite the complaints and sleepy whining, the one to remind there was no need to put a certain amount of money into the little jeans’ pocket, as nothing would be given to the drug dealers at the back door of another bar with cheap drinks and even cheaper sense of happiness coming after the second empty glass. The one to see him at his worst, the one to witness that part of his self Fabrizio was determined not to show anyone out of shame, out of fear, out of a screaming “protect them” at the back of his mind.

“Something reminded me of her. Of…”

“I understood”, Claudio interrupted him, for which Fabrizio could be forever grateful. Her name wasn’t a forbidden word, but saying it felt like confessing he committed a terrible crime.

“I don’t blame her. Not anymore at least. In fact, I’m slowly forgetting everything. I tried to remember the colour of lipstick she always used, you know, the one leaving those bright stains on my cheeks?.. I couldn't. And maybe I should feel easier, the hurt is dying after all. I’m turning into a mess, and I don’t even know the reason. Perhaps there’s no reason needed, perhaps it’s my natural state, Claudio, I… I don’t know what’s going on with me anymore.”

He hid his face in his hands again, it was a bad habit, it never solved anything, only made it harder for him to come out of his shell and make eye-contact afterwards. It was only a minute of weakness, covering his mouth that was uncontrollably muttering something repeatedly, mostly fast whispers “I hate-hate-hate-hate”... What exactly he hated he couldn’t ever tell, mind clouded by many different emotions being put together like chemicals. This little chant was probably a countdown to explosion.

“Fab, look at me.”

He shifted his hands just a little lower, to be able to see but not let others do the same. It wasn’t ideal for Claudio, but he didn’t push further.

“It’s not fair to you, damn, it’s not. This is wrong, stupid, horrible - call it as you wish. But it’s also something you can’t change, it’s the past, and you’re moving on, even if it seems like the complete opposite. There was a reason for this sudden thoughts, right? Give it a few days, you’ll recover, mark my words. Just let the time pass.”

And time passed. Slowly, often uneventfully crawling like an hour hand on the clock right above the shop entrance, other moments flying away in the blink of an eye. He managed to convince Giada to get Ameba4 discs, and the deal was made surprisingly soon. In less than a week the albums arrived, and he received his own copy. In less than a week a familiar figure appeared at the desk, where he still sometimes worked, changing spots with Andrea once in a while. Strong wind outside made the man's curls turn into a bird's nest, he made a face and then giggled while trying to stop them from blocking his sight. Fabri's lips curled into a smile at the image, and a warm sensation spread through his chest. It wasn't unusual, he often found himself surrounded by extraordinary people, whose energy was overflowing as the fountain, so he quite soon found himself noticing how the atmosphere changed whenever a certain person appeared. Claudio was calm, Roberto was fun and support, Andrea was loud unbreakable sense of unity, Alessandro was musical passion. Fabrizio couldn't put a finger on the kind of energy the man in front of him had, but it hit him like a tsunami, filling every corner of the store.

“You're just in time. We have something you might be interested in”, Fabri didn't know where he found the will to talk so smoothly instead of his usual friendly but not too enthusiastic approach. What's more, he winked at the customer while showing him the disc.

“Oh, that’s great! Any normal seller would hate me for this, but I didn't exactly need to _buy_ the album. I'm friends with guys from the band, and I just felt like seeing if they were getting popular. Now I guess they are.”

Fabrizio hummed in response, trying to hide the tiny bit of disappointment for the lost hope of actually selling the discs mixed with strange excitement at the news.

“Then tell your friends they have another fan now. Though they really need to make their website look less suspicious.”

A wide smile appeared on the curly one’s lips, his eyes lit up, and Fabrizio couldn't help noticing how these details brought him an unusual feeling of satisfaction. The man’s energy was getting to him after all.

“Finally someone agrees! I’ve been telling them that for a long time”, he paused and then looked back at Fabrizio, “As nice as this is, don’t think I simply came to chat. I don't know what exactly I want, frankly speaking, and you seem to know a lot, so maybe you’ll recommend me anything?”

Fabrizio’s heart was beating in his chest louder and louder. Surely, he has been asked for advice on what to buy not once or twice and managed to find music for his customers’ tastes, but this time he couldn't afford to mess up, the shop could get a new regular, and he could get to know a very interesting person. Fabri needed a moment to collect his thoughts, so he frantically eyed the things in front of him to find a suitable reason for the delay.

“Before you buy anything… Maybe you’d want our card? You can get discount, special offers and other cool stuff.”

“Sure, let’s do it”, the man shrugged.

“Good. I’ll need your name then”, Fabrizio looked at the other man, trying to guess what answer he’d receive. Everything about this guy was too intriguing. Mysterious. Confusing. He couldn't be figured out, even his expression was unreadable. No average name suited him.

“Ermal Meta.”


	3. Watch over me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabrizio experiences way too many emotions for a short period of time and realises a few important things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're finally getting somewhere. This escalated quickly.  
> Chiara is completely fictional, I don't know anything about Romina's family (besides Fabrizio).  
> The chapter's title and the mentioned song is Lost In The Ozone by Motörhead (idk about Fabrizio's favourites, so why don't include one of mine?) Also it might give you a clue for what will happen later (or not)

“So I take it things are going well?”, Romina took a long sip of her coffee, her fingers softly knocking on the table in a simple rhythm - a habit that apparently ran in the family. It reminded him of the time this woman with a teasing smile hidden behind the porcelain cup appeared more fierce and passionate. Appeared, because these traits never vanished, the fire was slowly burning in every Mobrici’s veins, and there was no way to put it out.

“With Andrea’s return it’s a lot better. Everyone missed him”, Fabrizio made a pleasant sound, as a warm liquid slightly burned his throat. His fingers, cold from the strong wind outside and absolute lack of gloves in his closet (he found one, but the other was definitely lost forever, and going out with one hand bare seemed too weird even for his fashion preferences), gripped the coffee mug, holding onto it for dear life. Spring was a beautiful season, no doubts, but not on its early days.

“They’re still torturing me with the records, but at least the sales are good. You know, there’s this guy attempting to buy the whole store”, he added and had to fight a sudden smile at the thought.

Was it the discount, the friendly atmosphere or something else, but Ermal quickly became a regular. His musical knowledge seemed to be endless, he could name the model of a guitar just by looking at it from afar for a few seconds, so it seemed even stranger that he always relied on Fabrizio’s taste while choosing his next purchase. It felt like a game with no rules established, a challenging “surprise me” answered with a sly smirk and a stare lingering for a second more than usual. Then again, he couldn't tell what was usual anymore. If his head was a store, it surely didn’t live up to the best expectations. Not that he cared much, he never found comfort in clean and orderly places, they looked too much like museums where everything was forbidden to touch, so there was no way to truly confirm the image on front of him wasn’t only a very believable illusion. The mess in his head was certainly real, but the realisation didn’t give him any idea for what he should do about all of this.

“You don’t sound like a man in misery”, Romina quirked her eyebrows, the rhythm her fingers set becoming faster, closer to the rapid beating of his heart. It’s a shame the rebellious girl never became a drummer in that high school rock band. Her skills were naturally good, and she was willing to learn, but her tongue was as sharp as the rose thorns encircling her shoulder, and the lead singer couldn't let anyone steal his fragile spotlight. “Who cares”, she said the day she got kicked out after another heated argument. She never suspected he heard her crying that night and, frankly speaking, he couldn't thank destiny enough for the fact she was too busy trying to muffle the sounds to notice her brother standing at the door.

And here she was, the wildfire still dancing under her eyelashes, her smile loving and gentle. He envied her, envied for laughing so loudly, for her smile being so carefree, for the way she easily said “I miss you” over the phone while he couldn't even tell her a simple “ti voglio bene” without a heavy bundle forming in his stomach, for just a glance needed to find out he was cold and craving a cup of coffee with cream she hated but always kept at home only for his irregular visits. Because once the lock had clicked after him and he mindlessly counted the stairs he had passed on the way to the exit (he still wasn’t completely sure of the number, different thoughts always distracting him and making him sigh in frustration), the overwhelming sensation of emptiness returned and gripped him even tighter, almost cutting access to oxygen, suffocating just enough to make breathing a torture without completely killing him. Because he hated himself, and he couldn't let her know. Because she knew anyway.

Yet the sun was still blinding his vision, as he sat opposite Romina, and he still had a few more hours to spare, so he threw his conscience away like a bottle in the trash can. He told her about everything, about songs listened on repeat late at night, about work becoming strangely pleasant, about Ermal. Mostly about Ermal. His colourful sweaters with long sleeves covering his arms, so only long thin fingers were visible, the way he shyly tugged on his scarf as he asked what Fabrizio’s favourite Ameba4 song was, his expression indecipherable after the answer. Their long talks and Ermal rolling his eyes whenever another customer interrupted them or someone from the store teasingly reminded Fabrizio his job is much more then entertaining a certain man. This certain man slowly becoming more carefree and allowing himself little witty remarks, starting from he time he leaned on the desk and looked Fabri straight in the eye with a cheeky grin.

“I’m here not for music today and certainly not because I forgot my purse at home. You know, I liked talking with you so much I even started listening to what I buy.”

Their surprising meeting on the street and another conversation both were so invested in that they forgot to take the turn and got lost in an unfamiliar neighbourhood. Fabri’s navigating skills becoming a target for roasting as well as his fashion sense, comebacks being thrown like a ball on a field.

“Don’t want to turn your world upside down, but eyebrows are not a myth.”

“Oh, please. I hear it from the man with hair style of a mad scientist!”

He told about the whole shop turning their heads to the sounds of uncontrollable laughter, about Andrea mocking Fabri for sudden change of attitude towards “employees being imprisoned” in the records section. About picking the guitar more often than before and mindlessly composing some melodies, which might become something more later, if he actually decides to give it a thought. Suddenly he noticed his sister’s narrowed eyes and paused.

“He seems like a wonderful man, _your Ermal_.”

She didn't even try to hide the curious undertone in her voice, as she put her now empty cup on the table and observed him carefully. That look wasn’t new, she always had it at nights of their teenage detective marathons, when she was just a few seconds away to uncovering who the killer was.

“He is, and… Wait. What are you implying?”

He knew better than to ask, but he still had to confirm he understood Romina’s words right. He hoped he didn't.

“We all know what I’m saying.”

“Romina, stop,” he gritted his teeth. He already had enough of his friends trying to set him up with people he barely knew in the best case and complete strangers in the worst one. At first he laughed with everybody, but then it turned annoying, as he realised those words were not as harmless as he claimed them to be, they struck something deep inside.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to deny…”

“Stop!”, he yelled. “I’m not going down that road again!”

He slammed his cup on the table and stood up, almost making his chair fall. Romina wasn’t scared of him towering over her with fury in his eyes, but she couldn’t help flinching a little at the sudden change of the atmosphere. The air between them became more and more tense with each passing second, like a sky covered by dark heavy clouds. Holding back needed enormous strength he didn’t have, so he did the only thing his mind kept suggesting. He let the thunder roar.

“I get it, you got lucky, you have a perfect life, and I’m happy for you! I am, there’s no need to rub it in my face. We both know ‘what if’s are nothing good, and the last thing I want is this idea stick in my head again! I won’t have this, I won’t be like you, the world doesn’t work like that, Romina… Stop feeding my monsters, I’ve had enough, I love you, but I’ve had enough. Thanks for coffee, great as always.”

He quickly grabbed his coat before walking - almost running - from the kitchen. It took him a few seconds to open the door without breaking the damn lock. He turned the knob roughly before Romina had any chance to stop him. It felt like escaping a beast in a horror film, the same fear, the same adrenaline. The only difference was the growing shame and the muffled sound of the rational part of him telling he’s overreacting, it doesn't solve anything, he’d only confirm Romina’s thoughts, and she wasn’t right, she couldn't be right, it was impossible. 

“When will I see you?”, she sounded angry and defeated, and if he turned to look at her even for a moment, he’d be unable to leave abruptly like he wanted. Even now his instincts kept telling him to check whether she was alright.

“I don’t know”, he tried to make his voice seem casual, but the result was something between a hiss and a sob.

“Chiara misses you”, merely a whisper in response.

Fabrizio sighed deeply. Did Romina decide to hit all of his weak spots at once? The mention of his little niece left a pang in his stomach. From the moment she was born Chiara became the brightest light in Fabri’s life, the motivation to change his ways and shape himself into something at least half-decent. In any other situation a smile would immediately appear on his face as soon as he heard her name, but now he could only say a short “I’ll drop by next week” and walk out.

Only at the steps of his own house, half an hour and two cigarettes later he realised this was the first time in the past few months he told Romina he loved her.

***

Loneliness is a good roommate. Never takes your things without permission, doesn’t throw late parties or make loud noise. Always calm and collected, and at first it’s so comfortable that you forget there’s someone else in your dull room. You live like usual, carry on with your embarrassing hobbies and bad habits, as you know it will never judge.

Loneliness is an annoying roommate. It follows you everywhere. For someone so quiet it surely doesn’t know the meaning of personal space. At first you appreciate the company, then you get worried and start randomly scan your surroundings in an attempt to find those prying eyes that watch you constantly. As time goes by you ask your silent acquaintance what business it has with you but never get an answer. Then you shout for it to get away. Then you scream. Then you cry. When nothing works, you feel the sudden fear consume your soul to the point of choking in fresh air.

Loneliness is a wrong roommate. And in the past days the realisation of it hit him hard.

Fabrizio was mindlessly strumming the guitar, sitting on a wooden chair, too small and uncomfortable. He should talk to Giada about changing the furniture. His fingers touched the strings as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As if he never ordered himself to stop any thoughts about making music from occupying his mind. As if he never caught a glance from his loneliness and saw it laugh at him, laugh at his lack of courage to pursue his dreams.

Come to think of it, this sensation was with him for longer than he predicted. Even living in the big house with many relatives he had to bottle his emotions up. Those few who would’ve listened, wouldn’t have understood. Others would’ve just brushed it off if not tell him to get his head off the clouds and be useful for a change. He considered writing his thoughts in a diary but quickly put the idea aside. He didn't like to think someone would read it on purpose, but simply finding a book with the word “diary” would disappoint his father. And Fabrizio put too much effort into being a good son to throw it all away for a stupid piece of paper.

But now his father couldn't see, and even if he did, Fabrizio couldn't care less. So he allowed himself to close his eyes and stop worrying about the outside world. After all, there weren't many days when Giada let him to his favourite guitar section. Soon the melody wasn’t enough, and he started singing, not even trying to quieten his voice echoing through the shop.

_I am a drifter on a hungry empty sea_  
_There is no one on earth to rescue me_  
_The winter storms they freeze me, summer burned alive_  
_I can’t remember when another soul passed by…_

He suddenly stopped, when he saw a familiar curly mane slightly bouncing to the rhythm.

“No, no, continue. Please”, Ermal softly smiled at him, but Fabrizio only shook his head before putting the guitar away. A strange thought occurred in his head: about a week ago he sold Ermal the album with this song, not without rambling about how much he loves the band before. Ermal told him he would listen to it at the first opportunity. Was it a coincidence? He decided he didn't want to know the answer.

He looked back at the man in front of him and noticed the warmth in his dark eyes. Another form of intoxicating energy Ermal and only Ermal had. The same energy Fabrizio wanted to shun and succumb to at the same time. The latter always took over despite the warning bells in his head screaming he’s a fool for falling into this trap.

“I’m flattered, but I don’t think my limited skills attract customers”, Fabrizio winked at him.

“Well, I am certainly attracted.”

Ermal smirked, and the warmth in his eyes turned deeper, now mixed with mischief.

“And what are you attracted to? Discs again? Guitars? Pianos? We have them too. Or something else?”

“Something I could never afford”, Ermal sounded calm, but there were hints of worry in his voice, which gave Fabrizio too much material for his sly coward imagination. His throat went dry, no reply willing to escape his barely open lips. He kept staring at Ermal, his shy and now sad smile, his gaze fixated on the floor. Fabrizio had to suppress the urge to hug him coming from nowhere. It will be awkward, if he lets this thought linger. Finally Ermal, apparently also tired of the long pause, spoke again.

“Maybe if you don’t want to play, allow me?”

He made his way to the guitar, carefully took it in his hands and sat on another chair, right opposite Fabrizio. Ermal’s fingers wandered across the strings, his feather-light touches making music flow like a river. Fabri unknowingly held his breath as the melody was recognised, picked up exactly where it had been stopped before. Then a gentle voice joined, making him freeze and his mind turn blank.

_Marooned and stranded on the islands of the damned_  
_There’s no-one on earth to take my hand_  
_There's no voice to speak, no soul for company_  
_The sun goes down like blood into the western sea_

There was so much pain in these fragile features, so much hidden behind the closed eyelids. Fabrizio learned every line of this song by heart and got used to his own raw and raspy voice shouting the lyrics, yet this new soft melancholic approach made something in his chest clench. It felt too right, and that scared him. He was addicted to it, and that made him frightened. The salty hot tears were threatening to fall, and that would normally cause instant panic, if he wasn't so mesmerized by the view and sound to actually care. He wanted to sing along but couldn't trust his voice not to betray him. And when the pure magic he witnessed was at stake, the risk was too huge.

_Alone and dying, and a thousand miles from home_  
_I know I never was so broken and alone_  
_I searched the sky for god, shivered to the bone_  
_Drowned in sorrow, lost in the ozone_

As the song continued, with each accord , with every verse Fabrizio stopped even the mildest attempts to hide how affected he was by the art in front of him. And if a passing customer saw the fresh wet traces on his cheeks, that would be the least of his concerns.

_No hand for me_  
_Abandon me_  
_Wash over me_  
_Watch over me_  
_Drowned forever_

Ermal didn’t seem to notice anything happening outside of his little world he has fully disappeared to. His fingers kept stroking the strings, as if caressing them and apologizing for the emotions he expressed with their help. Fabrizio quickly wiped his tears away, when his vision started becoming blur. He couldn't afford missing the smallest detail of this performance he could never fully experience again. Would Giada be disappointed he let himself be distracted from work? Probably. Would he trade the sight in front of him for her approval? Hell no. Would he trade this sight for anything at all? He feared the fact the answer came so fast and clear.

_Alone and crying, and a thousand miles astray_  
_Alone upon the cruel sea, forsworn and castaway_  
_I turned my face to god, but his face was turned away_  
_Lost in the ozone, nothing left to say_  
_Nothing left to say_  
_Nothing left to say_  
_Watch over me_

_And Fabri swore he would watch._


	4. In this car crash I learnt to love less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief night encounter and a little surprise is all it takes for the walls to break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this chapter appearing so late. I'm a disorganised mess, and I had to deal with some shit happening. But at least I'm back now.  
> There is some sensitive stuff mentioned here, it's brief, but still, not the lightest thing I've written in my life.  
> The song is Your heart, your words, your nerves by Midas Fall. (Does anyone know them? I feel like I'm the only one.)

Ermal’s footsteps were quiet and careful, like he was afraid the ground would crack beneath him. His gaze was fixated on the sky, and he quickly shut his eyes as the bright light of street lamps made his face look pale and his curls shine with some shade of blue. When he opened them again, the dark sky reflected in his pupils, and even if there were no stars visible above, Fabrizio could easily see them in Ermal’s eyes. That would be magical, if constantly looking at Ermal didn’t make him almost trip and lose his balance a few times.

“Fabri, usually at this age children already know how to walk”, Ermal chuckled. “Or am I such a beautiful sight that you understood ‘fall in love’ so literally?”

Fabrizio was glad the darkness of the night hid his expression, as he couldn't tell himself what emotions this little joke awoke in him. Soon Ermal’s laughter filled the silence, and there was no space left for any thoughts.

These late mindless walks became their habit after one time when they both had happened to be stuck at the same bus station only to learn there was a car crash which caused massive traffic jams. There was nothing worse than waiting, so they decided to make it on their own. At three a.m. they were standing in front of the house, Fabrizio awkwardly twisting the keys in his hand, a strange sensation stopping him from opening the door battled with the realization that standing there and doing nothing except staring at Ermal was simply ridiculous. Even if Ermal was staring back. Even if Ermal also looked embarrassed and didn’t seem like he was anticipating saying goodbye. After their hesitant hug and even more hesitant waving the shy disappointment appeared on both their faces, so Fabrizio quickly turned away.

Now they were exploring the neighbourhood, making sure not to take the same road twice. If it resulted into spending more time together, Fabrizio surely didn't mind. Occasionally there were people wandering around or loud groups hanging out near a few shops remaining open, so a man in a dark hoodie walking towards didn’t seem like something out of ordinary. However, as soon as the street lamp shed some light on the man’s face, Fabrizio froze on the spot. The man raised his head, and their eyes met, confusion quickly replaced with recognition. Without thinking for a second Fabrizio took Ermal’s hand and led him to the nearest turn, disappearing behind the trees. His own heartbeat sounding like giant drums in his ears, frantic glances around to catch any sign of movement, hand gripping onto Ermal’s so tight the man hissed in pain. Fabrizio immediately let go and apologized, his voice still a little shaken. While leaning on the tree, he took out a cigarette and lit it up, cursing himself as his fingers refused to obey and the lighter nearly fell to the ground.

Just a year ago this meeting would have gone so differently, and the deal wasn’t only that there wouldn't have been another man with him who now took his hand again and gently caressed his knuckles (Fabrizio would lie if he said that didn’t calm him down and distract from mindlessly scanning the area). No, he would have practically run in the arms he now dreaded to see, would have embraced his friend, would have kissed his cheek, would have started to tell him about everything happening in the world for the past 24 hours while gesturing wildly and maybe earning a few giggles and sarcastic remarks. So many “would’ve”s… He threw the cigarette away and intertwined his fingers with Ermal’s, wanting nothing more than to erase the worried expression from Ermal’s face and call the sweet smile back.

“Sorry it happened. I panicked. He, you know… He was my friend once, the closest one. I haven't seen him for a long time”, he closed his eyes and loudly exhaled. Of course, this did no job at making Ermal’s confusion disappear. Fabrizio would give anything for this tiny bit of strength he lacked to give a proper explanation, relieve it all and move on.

_“Stop clinging to me. My life doesn’t revolve around you.”_

Everyone referred to them as the strangest pair: a school dropout, always high or drunk, singing on the streets and never accepting money (not that anyone was eager to give him any) and an aspiring street artist drawing headless beasts and animal skulls on the walls, signing his works with three “a”s. Fabrizio was the only one told about how it stood for “an actual abomination”. At that time he laughed at it and joked about how they could share the title, both hearing those words more often than their names. 

_“I'm alright! Why don't you worry about yourself?”_

When both cut ties with their families and rented the cheapest room they could find in the neighbourhood, they were so bold to assume it was the first step into the new life and made sure there were no traces of their pasts. A and Moro replaced the birth names, and the only response to a sudden thought that this sounded too much like “amore” was a toast to that and more empty bottles on the floor as nobody was on the condition to take them to the nearest trash can. Still those months covered by foggy memory and too much alcohol in the fridge leaving no space for anything else were also months of working together, Fabrizio writing new songs on every scrap of paper lying around, A drawing on the other side. He agreed to make a cover of Fabri’s first album and was the only one to have Moro’s back, when he sent the songs to every music company they knew and received short feedback telling about how it was too raw and teenage and could never have perspectives. And a hissed “those assholes wouldn’t know what real art is”, an arm thrown over his shoulder to pat his back in reassurance made Fabri believe it wasn’t their downfall yet.

_“Oh, yeah, you’re so perfect now in this stupid world, aren’t you? The only smart one, and we all are douchebags compared to you?”_

Their downfall was much later, when Fabrizio finally realized how bad his addiction was after he woke up on the opposite side of Rome with no phone and purse as empty as his mind seemed to be. He wandered in circles, asking different people for directions and having no energy to snap at them as they turned away looking at him with obvious disgust. Until a man stopped him and offered his help.

“Hey, weren’t you singing yesterday at ‘The Kraken’? You know, the bar?"

Oh, he surely knew the bar. It was the place where the most shady business was done right under the police’s nose. Not that he actually cared about who the public consisted of, as long as he could unleash his music passion it didn’t matter what happened the second after his performance had finished. Still the fact that someone recognised him in all the noise and alcohol rush surprised him and made a certain kind of thoughts appear: he was alone in the unfamiliar neighbourhood, with no money and on no condition to defend himself.

“Don’t stare at me like that, I’m not about to murder you. No offense, but you already look pretty much dead to me.”

Fabrizio eyed him quickly, trying to find any sign of where the man could have been hiding the weapon.

“Still don't believe me, huh? Will it be better, if I tell you my name? I'm Claudio, last name’s Bielli, I live in this house, the flat near the always arguing couple with three dogs. I’m not some psycho, my mom can confirm.”

Fabrizio chuckled. If this was his last day, at least he had nice company to lead him to afterlife. Not that he believed in that stuff much.

They walked to the nearest bus stop, Claudio couldn’t stop talking, and Fabrizio was glad for it distracting him from any thoughts and doubts creeping in. Before he had any chance to confess there wasn't a single coin left in his pockets, Claudio paid for both of them and returned to the conversation again, not letting his new companion say a word about what happened. Fabrizio relaxed pretty soon, and after a few minutes he was telling the story behind the songs he performed the day before. He skipped the darkest details, but judging by Claudio’s expressions he was good at connecting the dots himself.

When familiar buildings appeared in the distance, Fabrizio did his best at reassuring Claudio he could get home on his own. The man only smiled at him.

“Just be careful, ok? I might not be nearby next time.”

“There won’t be a next time”, Fabrizio answered, and the sincerity in his own voice surprised him to no end.

He _promised_. He reminded himself of it every time he gritted his teeth in an attempt to stop the urge to take another dose or order one more shot to forget he already had five missed calls from Romina this week and it was only Tuesday. He found new comfort in playing his guitar while loudly screaming the lyrics or hanging out with Claudio (how the man managed to unnoticeably slide a piece of paper with his phone number and a few bills down the pocket of Fabri’s coat still remained a mystery). A only shook his head and put headphones on whenever his friend started another music session. For the first time in a few years Fabrizio believed there was a way out of the pit he fell into, and he held onto this hope so hard his knuckles turned white. He spent hours talking to Claudio about everything and nothing, he finally had enough courage to answer the phone, when Romina called (as she kept calling every day and leaving messages from time to time he wondered if he truly wanted no one with the last name Mobrici in his life again), he got a job at the music store and welcomed everything and everyone that came into his world along with it. It was a good period for him. It was a good period for A: he won a local art festival and got his share of popularity which only seemed to increase. It was a terrible period for them.

_“Can’t you just stop talking for a second? I’m not interested in your bullshit.”_

Another exasperated sigh accompanied by a frustrated gesture. Fabrizio tried to take his hand, but he roughly snatched it away. Every word stung, every word was a bullet stuck somewhere between the heart and the throat.

“Do you even… need me? J-just tell me, do y-you still care?..” Fabri whispered breathlessly, desperately trying to fight back the tears.

There was no answer. A dead silence filled only with muffled sobs. A loud bang of the front door. The sound of something slowly cracking before breaking completely.

...Claudio found him lying on the floor between the city of empty bottles and shattered pieces of glass, his fists bloody from being repeatedly smacked against the wall, the wet traces on his cheeks never having enough time to dry. The following days they spent at Claudio’s flat with him occasionally dragging Fabrizio out to get a breath of fresh air. When Fabri returned home, all of A’s things were already gone. No note on the table or anywhere else, he checked twice, thrice and more times until he lost count and his hope altogether.

Was it the right moment to tell Ermal this? Will there ever be a right moment? All the poorly made explanations vanished as Fabri felt the warm arms encircling his waist, inhaled the scent of the curls and softly caressed Ermal’s back, praying the tears shining in his eyes weren’t noticed. Even if they were, Ermal didn’t push it.

They continued their little journey as before, only now Ermal seemed to be much closer, their hands brushing almost every second. Focusing on the sound of Ermal’s voice helped Fabrizio calm down, he didn’t realize when the conversation starting flowing again with the same ease. Their feet led them to the small quiet playground. Ermal smirked as he sat on the swings and gestured for Fabri to come closer.

“And this man dared to mock _me_ for being childish,” Fabri raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, come on. The playgrounds weren't so cool in my childhood, and that’s just unfair!”

Fabrizio wanted to answer with another sarcastic comment, but then Ermal turned his head to the lights, the sadness mixed with something deep and dark appeared on his face. Noticing a change in Fabri’s expression, he tensed and tried to fake a smile for a second before simply looking at the ground. Fabrizio was never good with words, song lyrics being the exception, and this night was already so confusing and eventful he couldn't find any power to form even a simple sentence. He softly ruffled Ermal’s curls and tried his best to ignore the warm sensation spreading through his whole body, when Ermal leaned to the touch and mouthed a small “grazie”.

“Ermal, I never asked, but where are you from?”

Ermal slowly opened his eyes as if woken up from slumber but didn’t move an inch away.

“It was my name that gave it away, right? I’m from Albania. Moved here when I was thirteen and haven’t been there since.”

Another question was ready to be asked, but Fabrizio decided against it. The least he wanted was to pressure Ermal into sharing the parts of his past he preferred remaining unspoken. Especially when Fabri himself felt the fear getting a hold of him at every mention of his earlier life. So he only chuckled and slightly caressed Ermal’s cheek with his thumb, too which the other smiled a bit shyly.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Oh, that I am. And I actually have one more surprise for you.”

Ermal took something out of his pocket and handled to Fabri. A ticket. To Ameba4’s gig. Oh.

“I managed to sneak you one. You know, as I’m…”

“...the guitarist. I know.”

Ermal seemed taken aback for a second but then laughed, tilting his head back.

“Did you seriously expect me to be this oblivious? I mean the band page has a picture of all members, and the names are listed, and…”

“Ok, ok, I get it”, Ermal’s smile turned softer, his gaze locked with Fabrizio’s, his voice small and so insecure. “So will you come?”

***

Roberto has been twisting the ticket in his hands for good ten minutes, reading the words and numbers for god knows which time, and it made Fabrizio nervous. He just wanted an advice from his friend, not a session of being tortured by silence and embarrassing himself more and more with every passing second. What was so unusual about the ticket that it needed so much time to inspect?

“You better not be thinking about not going.”

Finally a reaction. Except it was anything but what he needed to hear. If he considered staying home he surely wouldn't have come to Roberto or anyone else, as they, no doubt, would just tell he’s an idiot for thinking about it even for a second.

“Of course, I’m going. It’s just… I don't know what to expect. It’s ridiculous.” 

Roberto only nodded.

“You said it, not me. What you should expect is a fun night full of music and two fools pining after each other. Maybe a very sensual guitar solo. Seems like something to look forward to.”

Fabrizio groaned. Those jokes no longer annoyed him, but they surely didn’t help to calm his fears down. This unspoken “I’m right, and you know it”, too clear in Roberto’s voice, was shattering the walls he put so much effort into building. Trying to convince his friends of something he didn’t believe in anymore was stupid. Admitting his feelings to himself was a big step, definitely. A big step to the deepest circle of hell.

“Correction: one fool. Because you have no idea what he thinks, and I have a pretty clear picture of how life works, when it’s decided people come in pairs like goddamn boots.”

“It’s not like you’re a fan of long sleeves. He’s surely seen the…” Roberto made an angry face, imitating the too familiar expression Fabri recognised instantly. “And he’s still here. So either he doesn’t care or-”

“There is no ‘or’”, Fabrizio slammed his fist against the table and sighed at the lack of emotions on Roberto’s face. “He doesn’t care, because he can’t imagine the situation where it would matter. He invited me, as I like his music. That’s all.”

“You know, I also like his music. And I saw Alessandro jamming to their songs once (he’s got sick dance moves, just don’t mention it to him). And Ermal knows, don’t think you’re the only one to tell him this. Yet the guy gave you one ticket and never mentioned you bringing plus ones. That has to count for something.”

Arguing with Roberto was never Fabrizio’s strong suit, the man could say every unpleasant thing and still be impossible to get mad at. Surely, there were some words threatening to spill, but they were going to be met with unamusement and a perfectly reasonable explanation. It seemed like his friend was two steps ahead of him without moving an inch. There simply wasn’t a way to tell Roberto to shut up as he didn’t really speak too much, and a raised voice couldn't do anything against the wide smile and a pat on the back with the usual “Fabri, it’'ll be ok. Can’t wait to say I told you so.” Not that shouting ever had any effect except scaring people off and pushing them away, but old habits die hard or simply become parasites feeding off your boiling blood.

He’d drown himself in self-doubt mixed with alcohol at terrible proportions, if he wasn't so content with keeping the promise he gave Claudio years ago after another breakdown and way too many glasses emptied. No alcohol in the house, no drinking to forget, no more than a bottle at once and only when there were friends near. However, what he never intended to give up was playing his guitar late at night, composing new melodies or just trying to transform the mess is his head into harmony at least in sounds. That night he added finishing touches to the song he had the idea of since the day he got to know Ermal’s name. Ermal will be the first one to listen to it, perhaps, only a melody, if Fabrizio won’t have the courage to sing the lyrics. And that thought was enough for a smile to reach his eyes.


	5. Io cerco te

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabrizio comes to Ameba4 concert, and that becomes the beginning of one of the most emotional nights in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!  
> Once again I'm sorry for this being late. Once again I can't promise when the next chapter will be posted. I'm a disaster, that's a fact.  
> Also the great reveal is about to happen! (And I'm sorry, don't kill me pls)  
> The song is Fabrizio's Pace aka one of the main sources of inspiration for the whole fic

“Fabri?”

It took Fabrizio a few seconds to figure out who called for him. However, a hand softly touching his shoulder as if to wake him up from slumber was instantly recognised. When he slowly lifted his head up, he was met with a warm smile.

“How about you take a break? You look like you need it”, Giada sounded concerned, though if he didn’t know better, he’d mistake it for pity. For a while he didn't know how to answer. The tiny remaining bit of his pride angrily told him to deny everything, especially his own anxiety eating him inside, but he knew Giada was right. She was always right, and he was too tired to hold a grudge against her for that.

He nodded, not without visible displeasure, and she gestured for him to come with her. Despite their longtime friendship, she still was a boss, and her office never failed to remind Fabrizio of it. He could live with the cold colour of the walls or too many papers lying on the table, but the unconditional cleanliness and tidiness creeped him out, though it resonated so well with her inner maturity he always found too extra. Back then Giada joked about him desperately trying to be a bad influence on her.

“Want to talk?”

“No”, he roughly shook his head. “Don’t you have work to do?”

She tensed for a moment but then let out a little laugh and shrugged. They were way past the employer-employee relationship, so little stunts like that were allowed.

“I've done everything for the day. Don’t worry, _I_ know how to manage my time. And you’re being quite rude to someone, who can lower your salary”, she snapped back, but the tone of her voice was too gentle for her to mean any of it. If anything, it revealed worry. Guilt slowly creeped up Fabri’s chest and started digging holes into his heart, but he struggled not to give in to it. Using Giada as a shoulder to cry on was going against every rule he established for himself, and he purposely ignored the fact he was known for bending every rule he came across. He bit his lip until the pain became louder than the words at the tip of his tongue.

“It’s quite nice outside. Do you want to get a breath of fresh air?” she nodded at the window, and Fabrizio sighed, defeated. He should have expected this. 

As he followed Giada to the top of the building, already with a coat on but still confused about their destination, he noticed there was something wrong with her today: she walked too fast, drew sharp breaths and avoided any colleagues. Giada was never the one for mindless small talk, or for anything mindless, but she always kept a light smile on her face, and polite greetings rolled off her tongue so naturally nobody could guess what she was really thinking, aside from a few people, Fabrizio being the first one on that list. However, this time studying the woman’s features didn’t give him any direct answer.

“The rooftop? Are you going to throw me out for bad behaviour?” he chuckled in amusement, as Giada turned the key opening the huge metal door.

“Sometimes I think about it, but no. I simply have access, everyone is ok with it, and we’re not bringing any trouble, so why not?”

“Bringing no trouble? Are you sure you've chosen the right company?”

Giada rolled her eyes and gently elbowed him. Footsteps loud against the stairs, they reached the rooftop after what seems like ages to Fabrizio. Giada clutched her hat to save it from the wind threatening to take it away and came a little closer to the edge.

“Never took you for the type to enjoy these things”, Fabrizio carefully approached the woman looking at the view of Rome caressed by the spring sun, rough edges of some buildings burning his eyes with bright orange. He loved this city, even if there were times when he wanted to rip this love out of his heart, for everything it made him go through.

“I used to climb roofs, when I was a teen”, Giada sat down, clearly not caring about her clothes getting dirty, which was new. “What, seems shocking?” she giggled at Fabrizio’s lack of a verbal reaction. She faced him for a second but then turned her gaze back to the busy streets and continued.

“Don’t think I’m all work and no play. I mean it’s been like this for the most of my school years, and then in the university… But I tried to have fun too. When they invited me for the first time, they never thought I’d actually come. It was great, I took a few pictures of the landscape and my classmates. Back then I wanted to pursue photography, you know. Funny story.”

Fabrizio barely suppressed the annoyed remark with a few not so appropriate words. It was anything but funny. He’s heard that story before, countless times, from different people. From himself. You’ll never get money with this, do something serious instead, get a normal job, fit into the frame we've chosen for you before you were even born… The look on his father’s face, when Fabri told him he was going to be a musician, said it all. Sometimes the words he heard back then still echoed in his ears, accompanied by a very irritating thought always resting in the back of his mind, waiting for another chance to remind of itself. What if he was right? A few gigs in shady places and a rejected album couldn’t be called a successful career. 27 is the edge musicians die, not come to life - he didn’t remember whose drunken joke it was, and probably it was better this way. The person most likely didn’t stay in his life, the thought did, and it haunted him from his 25th birthday. Back then stupid reassuring words that he still has a little time, worked, now there was no need for that. He was 27. He couldn't trick himself anymore.

He truly envied Giada for having strength to talk about it, relive all those years she spent not knowing if she should go where everyone pushed her or get out of their grip and run where her heart called. He envied her for not asking for the impossible what-ifs, for not wondering what could have been. For all his life he drifted in the ocean, waiting for another storm to take him wherever; Giada, on the contrary, was like a solid rock remaining in one place, and he could hold onto her to get out of the net he tangled himself in. His surprise had no end, when she told him for the first time she needed him just as much.

“I almost got caught once. I was the most inexperienced one in the group, so when a policeman noticed us and started screaming, I was startled. I froze. If someone hadn’t taken my hand and basically dragged me with them, I’d have lost my reputation of the perfect emotionless robot”, she chuckled, but the smile clearly didn't reach her eyes. “Sometimes I feel like I just became an adult right after the childhood. I studied, did assignments, worried about my future, and then one day it all stopped. And later this happened, the store, business, you…”

“Me?” he threw an arm over her shoulder and smiled at her moving closer. So it wasn't as warm outside as she claimed?

“You always bring the strangest ideas, and I agree. It would be so dull without you here.”

She snuggled to him even more, putting her head on his shoulder. If anyone could see them, they’d surely think they witnessed a couple in love on their romantic date. Maybe if that was true, his life would be a little easier, without all this uncertainty and disappointments. Maybe she would also feel better. They were a shelter for each other, the listening ear, the source of advice, motivation and, he dared to say, hope. Only one thing was missing.

_"Do you love me?” he asked Giada one day when their usual comforting hug lingered for more than normal, and their lips had only barely touched, before she backed away and looked him in the eye with so many emotions he couldn't pick out the most important one._

_“I don’t know, Fabri. I feel myself around you, and I stopped hating who I am. Every time you quit I worry you might never come back. I have no idea what will happen to me, if you actually don’t, if you just leave abruptly without giving me a chance to contact you. I truly want you to be happy. But is this love?” she sighed. After a few moments of being lost in thought she added so quietly Fabri could barely hear, “It’s not fair to both of us if we choose each other, only because there’s no-one else to choose.”_

He could feel her tense again. This had nothing to do with the temperature, that he was sure of.

“You didn't call me here just to distract me, am I right? I mean your magic worked, congratulations, but…”

She groaned and quickly took something out of her pocket. Fabrizio couldn't see the thing, but it seemed like a crumpled colourful sheet. Giada’s fingers nervously played with the paper.

“It’s stupid. I never take these, but this guy basically pushed it in my face, and uhh... I shouldn't have, but I just keep thinking, maybe… Oh, fuck it. Look.”

Clearly ashamed, she quickly handed him what turned out to be a small flyer. He could feel her anxious gaze on him, as she watched his lips curl into a smile, when this whole talk finally made sense, along with the bright blue letters forming very interesting words.

“Photography courses?” he repeated what he had just read. He didn’t know what else to say, this was nothing to be freaked out about, but those words definitely weren’t what Giada wanted to hear.

“Ugh, don't even start. There are probably a ton of students in their early twenties, wanting a new hobby to add to their hundred other ones. Or taking part in some glamourous competitions. And ‘oh, I have thousands pics of my cat on my phone’ me, that’s just-”

“If you’re not the best photographer in the world, it doesn’t mean you should forget where you put your camera. You know what? If you go, I'll tell you about the concert.”

He could feel Giada shaking a little with laughter, as always. As strange as it sounded, their talks calmed them both down, he was less nervous about his own problems when he had someone else to worry about, and she probably felt the same. They weren't the best when it came to cheering people up, but what mattered was that they tried and didn’t have any other intentions than helping a person dead to them. Fabrizio could count people who truly cared about him on fingers.

“Like you’re going to shut up about it, even if I say no. Fine, you won. But! If I need a model, I know who to ask”, Giada looked at him smugly.

“The sacrifices I make…”

***

The bar was more crowded than Fabrizio thought. Was it the genuine interest in music or the 50% discount on the first drink, but the public couldn't be compared to those twenty-something people Fabrizio used to play for. He leaned on the counter and watched the band members occasionally sprint between the sides of the stage, adjusting the instruments and trying out the microphones. When he spotted Ermal chatting with someone (more like using every gesture he could master), he felt himself being captivated. The black suit fit Ermal too nice, and in the light of small projectors his curls looked almost white and blindingly beautiful. When Ermal scanned the area, showing something to the guy he talked with, he noticed a familiar face in the crowd, and even despite how far from him the guitarist was, Fabrizio saw his gaze becoming less sincere, becoming softer and… warmer? Ermal waved at him, and Fabri sent him a kiss. It was a usual gesture, a sign of affection his friends quickly got used to and didn’t find something out of ordinary. However, Ermal reacted differently: he bit his lip trying to hide an obvious smile and continued staring, his gaze freezing Fabrizio, almost stopping the other from breathing. Then a voice called from backstage, and the moment was gone. Whenever a silhouette appeared from some corner, Fabri shifted nervously, ready and absolutely not at the same time to see a familiar face. And there were familiar faces, indeed, but not the one he waited for. The only thing left to do was counting the seconds before the start of the gig and maybe use the discount the ticket gave him. No, better not. He didn't want the privilege of blaming his emotions on alcohol, not today.

After what seemed like an eternity the band came on stage, and the first sounds of music replaced the endless noise of footsteps, voices and glasses clinking. What happened after never made a whole picture, just many flashes. Hands touching the strings lovingly and (that might’ve been his imagination) more sensually than usual. The shy gaze turning more and more intense. A tongue licking too dry lips. Fabrizio tried to remind himself he came here to see the _band_ performing, but his eyes couldn't focus on anything other than a certain guitarist. When Ermal moved to the other side of the stage, Fabrizio had to fight the urge to chase after him. Luckily, soon his torture was over. Ermal flashed him a sly grin, which soon turned into a bright smile, when he saw Fabrizio singing along.

Suddenly the band left the stage, everyone except one member. Fabrizio vaguely remembered the singer saying something to the crowd and pointing at Ermal, but that didn’t give him any answer to what that was about. The guitarist walked to the centre of the stage and started playing the too familiar song, the one that struck Fabri the most that fateful evening, when he cursed the man he barely knew for introducing him to this band. The one he couldn't stop playing on repeat, even if it gave him too many emotions at once. The one he called his favourite, when Ermal asked. Did all these facts have a connection or was it only his wishful thinking? He decided not to go there and just enjoy the music. Then there was more than guitar sounds to hear, and Fabrizio felt as if his heart either stopped beating at all or sped up like crazy, there was no in between. _Ermal was singing._ His voice hitting the lower notes perfectly to become the falsetto cutting the air, his eyes closed, the expression on his face indescribable but so mesmerising nonetheless. The loved and hated image of the past barely appeared in Fabrizio’s mind but didn’t stay for long. It was impossible to think about anyone else, when this voice filled his ears, the bar, probably every corner of the world. There was no way out of this now, every turn back left behind and forgotten. Only Ermal, Ermal, Ermal...

The song ended far too soon, the last accords lingering in the air, as Fabrizio tried to breathe them in to let them forever rest within his soul. Ermal opened his eyes, gifted the audience with his softest smile and then sent a little shy kiss that looked neither like the one he received from Fabri before the concert nor like those with which a musician thanks the public for the support. It was well covered in the gesture itself, but Ermal’s gaze revealed the kiss was for one person only. For said person time stood still, he realised the concert had ended, and everyone was gradually returning to their homes or to the bartender who could refill their empty glasses, but all of that was somewhere far away, like in a dream, while his reality never changed. People squeezed past him, some almost making him fall with their not so graceful movements, which made him slowly get closer to the stage where nobody could disturb him anymore. He stood there, lost in thought, not willing to let go of what has become memories, when he felt a hand gently stroking his shoulder.

“You look a little zoned out. Is it the effect of music?” a low voice grazed his ear, and Fabrizio almost shivered. Music was a part of it, for sure, but not any music could make him so vulnerable and rip the solid core which used to keep his emotions inside. And not just anyone playing it. Not anyone _else._

“Are you waiting for me?” Ermal tried again, as his previous questions was left unanswered, even if Fabrizio could swear the answer was clear as day.

“Depends on how you feel about it.”

Not exactly it, but using another word, just as short and simple, was dangerous. They were already dancing so close to the edge, one wrong move, and all will be ruined.

“I can’t leave the guys like that, we still have to take care of the instruments. It shouldn't take long though. I’ll be here in a minute, don’t go without me!” Ermal kissed his cheek and ran away.

It truly took about a minute for the curly head to show up from the backstage.

“They let me go. Said I was in no condition to do anything harder than walking. It’s wrong, and I’m more energetic than ever, but let’s get out of here before they realise it.”

They walked hand in hand, talking about music, Ermal smiling widely and leaning on Fabri’s shoulder after every single one of countless compliments he received from his fellow fan. Fabrizio described his emotions in details, careful not to let anything truly important slip. These are not the things you tell on the street in front of the building you’ve never seen and people you’ll probably never see again. He wasn't even sure of what exactly he was going to say or ask. He shoved the worrying thoughts aside for now, he’ll worry about it later, when there will be no Ermal laughing like crazy at every stupid pun, practically jumping in excitement, his curls becoming the wildest mess. It was physically impossible not to give in to the temptation to touch those, gently stroke them at least for a few seconds. Fabrizio chuckled as Ermal leaned to the touch, clinging to the man with his whole body. Hard to believe, but there was time when Ermal didn’t welcome such caresses.

_"This gesture isn’t for free, you know”, he gave Fabri a challenging look and stepped back until he was out of reach._

_“You can’t possibly make me pay at my shop.”_

_“Your shop? Should I tell the real owner?”_

For what seems like only a minute but was probably so much more they admired the city lights together (more like Fabrizio admired Ermal being mesmerized by the night Rome). Despite all the love he felt for his home, going somewhere in the dark was deeply associated with danger of running into old “friends” or someone worse. Until Ermal. Sure, old habits die hard, and being cautious never hurt anyone, but for the first time since god knows when the Roman didn’t feel any weight on his shoulders. Maybe that was the reason of him inviting Ermal home without hesitation? Maybe the overall excitement of this day was the reason Ermal agreed so fast?

“I hate to say this, but you actually impressed me. I expected something more like a bear den.”

“Against the popular belief I know how to keep my stuff clean.”

The time was already close to midnight, and the old lady light next to Fabrizio might have already called the cops on the two men not letting her sleep in peace. Though that didn’t seem to bother them one bit, as Ermal found Fabrizio’s guitar and was trying to convince the owner of the instrument to play something. It all started with a simple “you might know this” and a few songs which could be easily found on the discs a certain customer bought in a certain shop. That quickly led to other melodies and them singing along in harmony almost impossible for two people who never sang together before. Then Fabri sighed deeply and licked his lips, unsure of what he was getting himself into.

“I, well… I write myself sometimes. Nothing too great, just my emotions in a less messy form. This one is new, so if you want to…”

The eager nodding seemed like a clear answer. Fabrizio closed his eyes, he couldn't bear looking at his guest and watching his reaction. That would crash him for sure, no matter what he’d see on Ermal's face.

_“Tolgo gli occhiali da sole per guardare il sole...”_

This morning he feared the thought of telling Ermal how much he anticipated the concert, and there he was, confessing something far larger and scarier. Something sitting inside him for long and now finally having a shape. Something he hoped Ermal would understand. Deep inside he knew Ermal would, otherwise it wouldn't be so hard to wait for the answer. Maybe these minutes were going to be the last ones before another heartbreak, another piece of his soul being torn, another hateful word addressed by his conscience to himself and himself only. He should cherish it. He might never have a moment like this one again. He opened his eyes just to look at Ermal’s hands lying still, not moving at all; he wanted to memorize every little thing about those hands in case he never gets to touch them again, intertwine his fingers with these pale ones, feel the cold metal of a ring against his hot palm. He didn’t dare to look up, afraid of seeing disgust or pity on this face, afraid of seeing confusion, but most of all, afraid to see nothing. He noticed a long time ago that any hateful word hurt him less than a dead silence.

“Bizio… That was magical.” Ermal exhaled, when the air was filled only with the sound of Fabrizio’s shaky breathing.

His mind didn’t know what to focus on. The nickname, the new beautiful nickname only Ermal had for him. There were many of them - Fabri, Fab, Moro, Bri - but not a single one of them made him feel so much. Not a single one was liked instantly, not a single one fit so perfectly, not a single one was so special. He wondered if Ermal called him that a lot in his head before it slipping accidentally. Or was it not the accident? Was it a way to tell Fabrizio something?

_Magical._ It made him breathless. When he waited for the response, he expected anything but that. A part of him felt proud and lost in the overwhelming happiness. Perhaps it wasn’t too late for him to start over and earn the status of a musician.

“I wrote this not so long ago. I didn't show it to anyone before”, he hoped those words were enough for Ermal to grasp the real meaning behind the lyrics, a lot less abstract than he probably thought.

“Oh, I feel so honoured, truly. I’m too emotional, I have no words, just… thank you, thank you a lot.”

“No, Ermal”, Fabrizio put the guitar away and got closer to the man, their faces inches from each other. “I wanted it to be you. I wanted it from the beginning.”

Ermal’s eyes widened, and before the panic could start spreading through Fabri’s veins, a shy smile replaced the confusion on Ermal’s face, and only a second later their lips touched. It was gentle, Fabrizio kissed him like he was made of fragile porcelain and could break at any rougher movement. Feeling the fingers running through his hair, slightly pulling him closer, he deepened the kiss slowly, allowing Ermal to back away any moment, but instead of that Ermal responded eagerly. The same tenderness stayed, though the caresses became braver, lingered more, Fabrizio stopped suppressing the urge to touch, to stroke, to let his hands wander. He was on the verge of losing himself completely after sharing a few more kisses, when Ermal suddenly pulled away, the apologetic look in his eyes making Fabrizio feel as if he was stabbed in the stomach.

“I have to show you something”, Ermal stood up and turned away. With one movement he took his shirt off and then approached Fabrizio without looking at him or anywhere else, moving almost like he was hypnotized.

He was gorgeous, every part of his body was an incredible sight. Fabrizio craved to touch the exposed skin, run his hands up Ermal's chest and back, plant kisses down the arms, and neck, and shoulders… Then he saw it. He was a fool for not realizing sooner, for admiring Ermal’s torso while the only thing Ermal wanted him to see was above. The tears glistening in the eyes of the man in front of him reflected it all. A black wolf on Ermal’s shoulder was staring at Fabrizio with piercing eyes. A _different_ wolf.


	6. Voglio ascoltarti per ore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally it's time to talk. And listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of angst, a bit of feels, a bit of darkness, maybe even a bit of something like fluff... A wild chapter, really.  
> The song is Fabrizio's La Felicità (I love it to death)

No. No, no, no. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Neither this evening, which seemed too perfect to be true (and actually was), nor what happened after his indirect but still very clear confession. Fabrizio felt a heavy lump in his throat, the weight of what he had just discovered hitting him so hard he was sure if it was physical, it would break his bones. Somewhere far away the rational voice kept telling him he should have been prepared, wasn’t he the one always arguing with anyone who fed him the false hopes? He surely suspected it. Predicted. Maybe even knew. But rationality could do nothing against the pain that was spreading through his whole body like a poison slowly killing him.

“I’m sorry. It doesn’t make anything better, but I never meant to lead you on. I understand if you want me to leave. I won’t bother you again”, a shaky whisper came from what felt like somewhere far away. In a second Fabrizio was awoken from confusion and stood up facing Ermal.

“No”, he answered firmly. “You shouldn't be sorry and, most importantly, you shouldn't leave. I mean unless this is what you really want.”

He took a cautious step towards Ermal and softly caressed the already slightly wet skin on the other’s cheek, barely touching it with the tips of his fingers, dying to kiss away every tear. Suddenly a shivering body collapsed on him, and without thinking he returned the embrace. His hands found their way to the mess of curls and lost themselves there, longing to touch every little hair.

“I wanted to tell you, I really wanted. But I… I couldn't f-force mys-self to do it… if it meant losing y-you…” Ermal’s voice was turning weaker with each word, the sobs fully consuming any other sounds. Fabrizio only hugged him tighter. He opened his mouth to whisper something reassuring in Ermal’s ear but stopped; everything seemed stupid or too banal, something you would say to a person you barely know more to make yourself comfortable and get out of an embarrassing situation than to actually help them. And he struggled with his unapologetic honesty enough to know sometimes it is the only way to do something instead of only trying to do.

“Listen”, his voice was still gentle, and his fingers still couldn't leave the pale skin even for a brief moment. “I’m scared too. And I have absolutely no idea of what’s going to happen. But this is not in any sense your fault. You know, I never liked this concept of ‘your destined other’. And even judging by the marks, we’re still pretty close, it’s supposed to mean something, right?”

Fabrizio pulled away to look at Ermal's face.

“Honestly, what I see in your eyes is far more interesting than what’s on your shoulder.”

Ermal smiled at that and crashed his lips with Fabrizio’s, kissing him with such passion and force, throwing himself on the other so hard they nearly lost their balance. Somehow he still ached to get closer, even if it wasn't physically possible, and this sensation was mutual. Fabrizio kissed Ermal’s face, not leaving any spot untouched. Many questions were unasked and of course unanswered, his conscience was telling him they will eat his bare soul the second Ermal’s hands stop drawing circles on his back. For once, he told his conscience to _shut up._

***

A glass of water might be enough. He’ll just drink it and come back to bed. He’ll fall asleep. Nothing else will happen.

Excuses. Excuses again. No-one believes them anymore.

He didn't know how many times the green numbers on the clock changed while he was standing in front of the kitchen counter looking at the same spot with literally nothing interesting there. The same old dishes, coffee mugs, a plate he again forgot to wash, several knives. One’s blade was shining especially bright, attracting, inviting. His hand almost reached for it but stopped mid-air, as he forcefully pulled back. What a stupid thought… Like he doesn’t know it won’t change anything. The source of this frustration lies deeper than he could ever cut. He wasn’t a teen anymore, a silly teenager with mind blank and heart broken for the first time in his life, who thought he was the first one to try and erase whatever they all called destiny. But of course the nature ink was still there. Along with hatred in the wolf’s eyes, hatred mirrored in his own.

He turned away from the counter after the last empty glance at the evidence of his years old crime. Looks like a glass of water won’t be enough.

Holding his breath, as if the sound of it could wake the whole neighbourhood, Fabrizio tiptoed towards the door to the guest bedroom and carefully looked inside. A figure was lying on the bed in the mess of covers. Moonlight peeking through the thin curtains made the man’s skin look bluish and even paler than usual. All doubts put aside, Fabrizio entered the room and silently admired the view. Now that Ermal was lying still, Fabrizio could take a proper look at his mark. The delicate lines of the wolf’s head were breathtaking, too breathtaking to hate.

For the past years he asked himself many times what the sign meant, why a wolf out of everything. Now he caught himself thinking about howling, letting out all his emotions at once. There were many things so wrong about the situation he ended in. The worst was dragging Ermal into it, this wonderful soul deserved nothing but happiness, and happiness wasn’t a regular guest in Fabri’s life. Something told him Ermal wasn’t used to it too. Probably the pain in the eyes of the creature looking at him directly, radiating calm energy with a hint of something deeper and darker. He wondered if Ermal ever felt a connection to this animal, as strong as what Fabrizio himself was going through now.

_Helplessness._ Always like a smack in the face. He would prefer making mistakes to doing nothing thousands times, but his preferences didn’t matter. There was no choice for him, except between acceptance or a pointless fight. He used to say he didn’t believe in soulmates at all, but that excuse (and it was never something more) stopped working as he witnessed with his own eyes Romina meeting her “destiny” and finally finding peace within herself. However, he was still far from any calm, “I don’t care” replaced the old “I don’t believe”, and now that shattered too. He cared. He cared too much. If Ermal decided to leave now and forever… He wouldn't be able to shrug it off and casually say he predicted it. He didn’t want to predict anything at this point.

“Bizio, if you’re trying to drill a hole in my back, the timing is awful. Or are you practicing the lasers in your eyes?” Ermal suddenly turned around, sat up and lazily grinned at him. Fabrizio, caught red-handed, only shrugged and sat next to Ermal not to embarrass himself even more.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you”, he apologized as he watched Ermal stretch and rub his eyes.

“It’s ok, I wasn’t sleeping anyway. Though I have to admit you’ve chosen not the best way to drag me out of bed.”

Fabrizio smiled as he felt warm arms encircling his waist and a sudden weight on his shoulder. He leaned back, unsure of what caused this change in the atmosphere between them but certainly not minding it.

“Tell me something? Anything at all”, he asked softly and closed his eyes to not let tears fall. He gave all his hope to Ermal, and now there was nothing left for him. Maybe the soothing voice and a few gentle touches could kill the beast eating him from inside. If not, he’ll still spend more time in Ermal’s arms, and it was definitely the best place to be.

“I don't know what. I’m not a storyteller. What do you want to hear?” Ermal’s breath on his neck made Fabrizio shiver.

“Do you always play that song alone?”

He was sure his question would be understood right, and it was. Thought the reaction was anything but what Fabri wanted. Ermal tensed and slightly pulled away. Of course. It was so easy before simply because Ermal didn’t think about everything that happened this night. And now Fabrizio reminded him. Congratulations, he managed to fuck up one of their greatest moments.

“No”, a sigh tickled his skin again, “That was a one-time thing. Specially for one person.” 

“And I guess it worked?” Ermal added after a short pause.

“You should sing more, your voice is incredible.”

“You always tell me that. And still you’re the one who writes all these amazing lyrics and music… Fabri, if you had a concert, I’d spend days in queue to get a ticket.”

“Luckily you won’t need that. I can sing for you, but only if you’ll sing too”, Fabrizio chuckled while running his fingers down Ermal’s arm. _“I could listen to you for hours”_ , he mentally added, and that phrase stuck in his head. His quiet humming turned into a melody, as the realization hit him. He will write another song for Ermal, another song about Ermal. If he was alone, he’d already get a pen and the nearest piece of paper to write on, too afraid to let the idea slip away and disappear for good. But now he was somehow sure it would stay. At least as long as Ermal would.

“You’re zoning out. What’s on your mind?”

When Fabrizio opened his eyes, he saw Ermal being a little worried, Ermal intertwining their fingers, Ermal looking at him, looking for answers neither of them had. However, the last question was easy. Fabrizio brushed Ermal’s hand with his thumb.

“You.”

***

Fabrizio rang the doorbell. A few more moments of nervously shifting from one foot to another wouldn't do him any good. The door opened immediately, and Fabrizio would definitely wonder for how long had Romina been standing at the door and watching his embarrassment, if a little girl didn’t almost knock him off his feet. He kneeled down and took her in his arms, while her incoherent but indeed happy mumbling mixed with squeaking sounds turned the roaring tornado of thoughts and hidden fears in his mind into a clear sunny sky. He caught the words “zio” and “play”, and that was enough for him to know how he was going to spend the next couple of hours.

“Chiara! We both missed zio, but at least let him take his coat off!” Romina nodded at the little girl and smiled at them with so much tenderness Fabrizio nearly forgot why he was so anxious about coming here. He embraced his niece tighter before letting go and turning attention to his clothes, glad to find a good reason not to face Romina’s look, for this woman always had two things ready for him: burning hot coffee and no less burning questions.

Fortunately Chiara wasn’t in the mood to hear the adults talk, so as soon as Fabri put his shoes near the closet, she confidently led him to her room, or - as it was called this time - the kittens’ castle. Why a few toy kittens, each about the size of his pinkie, needed a whole castle, he didn’t dare to ask. As he listened to the great tale of how the brown kitten whose name he forgot again) became a knight, and how a man has visited her parents, and now that man was definitely a wizard (he had a long beard and a blue hat, what other proof could there be needed?), Fabri softly hummed along and ruffled the girl’s hair, to which she only giggled. Chiara. He loved the sound of her name and, most of all, he loved its meaning. With all the uncertainty and all the wrong roads he has taken in his life he needed something clear, he needed a light to know he wasn’t walking right into the dead end and that not every end was dead. And as he watched how she tried to keep her eyes open while almost falling asleep in his arms, in the way she angrily insisted she wasn’t even a tiny bit tired, he saw the little fierce Romina, and he hoped so much this so familiar fire wouldn't ever burn her, as it hurt every Mobrici. Even if it was impossible to protect his sunshine from the ugliness that somehow kept choosing his family as a target, he’d still try. Because she was his light.

Not the only light, he realised, when he exited the room after singing Chiara to sleep. The image of another person appeared before his eyes, and he slowly felt his own smile fading and the same old thoughts creeping back in. _He only drowned those who tried to save him from drowning_ , and now he was about to become a dark stain in Ermal’s life. Could there be a way, maybe only one of the thousands, leading them to peace? As much as Fabri wanted to be strong, he knew he wouldn't be able to let go of the man without him directly asking for it. And Ermal didn’t seem to want that one bit, which made Fabrizio happy, incredibly happy, but also didn’t make it any easier.

“Asleep?” Romina looked up from the book she was reading and nodded at the side of Chiara’s room.

“Asleep”, he echoed and sat on the couch next to his sister.

“I meant what I said back then. We missed you.”

He could have answered with a simple “I missed you too”, which was true, but he bit his tongue and stayed quiet. Today was the fourth time he stood at the door of her flat, too anxious to call and too stubborn to leave. Once he ran into Michele, Romina’s husband, and had to ask his friend not to tell his sister about this, to which Michele replied: “I won’t, but you know how she is.” And he knew. One direct question and a straight-in-the-eyes look, and his cover is blown. Her expression was unreadable, but one thing Fabrizio was sure of - she asked the question.

“What’s happening?”

He shook his head. Not happened, but happening. She was just too clever.

“I was right.”

She looked at him, and he felt a sudden rush of satisfaction at seeing her being the one confused. However, that feeling passed as quickly as it appeared, and he was left trying to find the right words to describe the wrongest situation.

“I saw his mark”, he exhaled loudly, not even bothering to make himself clear.

“And?”

“Life has a strange sense of humour”, he chuckled and gave Romina a challenging look. “A wolf, just a bit less bloodthirsty and a bit more black.”

She wasn’t shocked, not a single feature of hers gave a hint she might be surprised. Her face gone completely emotionless, her eyes empty, her fingers nervously dancing on the edge of the couch, moving slightly closer to him and then further back again - the gesture he knew too well, she only did this when she was visibly uncomfortable but couldn't allow herself show it, torn between keeping her cool and reaching out to her brother. Any other time he would spare her the tough choice and put his arms around the small of her back only for her to hug him tighter and whisper something she didn’t need to hold back anymore. But now he was frozen in place, somewhere light years away from her.

“Did he leave?” Romina’s voice mirrored his own. He never expected this familiarity to hurt so much. The worst was not knowing why he reacted this way, when nothing too bad happened, actually, the opposite, they were finally talking, and there was no terrible news to deliver. Then why?

“No. I guess we’re together now…” he paused, lost in doubt whether he should add something. “...though I don't know for how long”, a thought ran through his mind like a sudden jolt of electricity, but he stopped himself from opening his mouth. Funny how the old “count to ten” rule still managed to work.

Romina visibly relaxed, the tension left her shoulders, and her lips curled up in a weak sincere smile. Yet she still seemed to be processing everything, probably searching for a suitable answer. Not that he really needed any. He moved closer and put an arm around her, a bit awkwardly as if he expected her to flinch. She embraced him silently, laying her head on his shoulder. He took her hand in his own, and she only squeezed it tighter.

No words were said.


	7. E costa cara la fragilità

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabrizio learns more about Ermal's past, as his own is about to remind of itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Sabbia by Ultimo, because like father like son (and also because I love it so much)

Fabrizio opened his eyes, when he felt a sudden wave of coldness tickling his chest. Romina disentangled herself from him and went to the kitchen counter to pour herself some water. Nervous, very nervous. Anxious even. The glass she hid her face behind was a weak shield against his prying eyes and years of experience in deciphering her small gestures, when she was sad but didn’t want to show it. Both of them had a hard time sharing what they thought to be a weakness but eventually learned to do it, as they became the only bridges between past and present for each other.

“Fabri, I need to tell you something”, she put a glass on the table with a thud, louder than she probably aimed for, “You won’t like it, but please listen and let me say everything before you make up your mind.”

He frowned. The last time someone said they needed to tell him something didn’t go well for the most part. And at this thought he couldn't help but wonder: are Romina’s words somehow related to Ermal? Will she ask her brother to be more careful and not rush into this new-found love like he rushed into everything that scarred him? In this case, she was absolutely right, he wouldn’t like it. He didn’t want his hold on Ermal to be too tight, he knew better than that, but not holding onto him completely wasn’t an option. Of that he was sure more than ever before.

“Dad wants to see you.”

That caught Fabrizio off guard. Their father wasn't a forbidden topic, in fact, nothing was, but bringing him up of all sudden was new. And he didn’t support this kind of change.

“Since when is he ‘dad’?” he hissed at the last word, bitterness transformed into disgust by years of isolating himself from almost the whole Mobrici family, was too audible in his voice. He couldn't bear calling this person he once loved such an affectionate term. Fabrizio tried to refer to his father by the first name, but it sounded wrong, it felt like twisting the dagger in his already bleeding wound, so sticking to the simple neutral word was the only solution, not pleasant but at least reasonable.

“Since about a year. And I trust you to know that’s not too much comparing to the time he was convincing me to call him that again.”

“And what caused this change of heart? Did he tell you he was another person back then? Or was it something along the lines of regretting his earlier behaviour and wanting to make it up to you? What does he even really want?”

“Fabri”, Romina’s voice sounded like a steel blade wrapped in a warm blanket, soft yet stern. He could tell she was determined to finish this talk the way she intended. “It wasn’t completely like this, but some of this may have played a part in it. What he really wants is his son back. And you’ll definitely think I’m naive and immature, but you know what? _I believe him._ ”

He buried his face in his hands, scratching his forehead with his nails. Romina predicted his every next move perfectly. If they were playing chess, he’d have already lost. He stayed quiet, every word on the tip of his tongue either too venomous to be directed at his sister, or too pained to keep his facade of indifference.

Meanwhile Romina continued.

“He contacted me about three and a half years ago…”

“Oh, so that’s what this is about?!” he smashed his fist on the table. The pieces of puzzle in his head were now put together, and despite a few missing ones the whole picture was clear as a day. He knew exactly what happened three years ago.

“So he was getting lonely and thought he can throw a ‘sorry’ here and there, and we will become the ideal family?!” he almost shouted. After a few seconds of silence and his nails painfully digging into the flesh of his palms he looked back at Romina with a visible challenge.

“ _I won’t let him get to Chiara._ If anyone in this household deserves happiness, it’s you and her. And her life won’t be ruined like yours had been.”

With each word his anger died down, transforming into despair widely mixed with confidence, and this combination was driving him crazy in every bad sense of that word. His final words were barely louder than a whisper.

“I’ve failed you, but I won’t fail her.”

He could never forget the moment he saw Romina that day. With a bouquet of dark red roses held tightly against her open grayish dress (she was never a fan of those blindingly white wedding outfits), she was scanning the entrance to see if a certain someone will appear. A certain someone who was supposed to walk her down the aisle half an hour ago, a certain someone who was bursting with excitement since she asked him to do it, a certain someone who felt so proud of his amazing sister taking the first step into the new life, free of old regrets and constant fear. Romina radiated beauty, and if anything in his life ever had went right, he would’ve already see her smile turn brighter, when her eyes would’ve met the ones of her now pronounced husband.

He could never forget the moment she saw him. Disheveled, sweaty from running, his clothes all messed up, his lips bloody from all the times he bit them, the smell of alcohol still poisoning the air around him. She clenched her jaw and furrowed her eyebrows but said nothing, only came to greet him and pull in a hug. He didn't remember what exactly he was mumbling in between choking on his whispers, probably something about being weak and stupid with no sense of self-consciousness even to refuse a glass offered by an “old friend”, and then another, and another… He felt a scream stuck in his throat, a desperate need to tell that he called each gulp the last one, that with every drop of bitter liquid he was more and more ashamed for having no will to keep himself together, that this morning he woke up with a burning headache and the rising panic in his chest, shouting for him to move and freezing at the same time, as if shutting his eyes for an extra second could make the time stop and rewind to the evening before for a chance for him not to mess up again. But he swallowed his words like a bitter pill, as not a single one of them mattered or could do any good for what he had already ruined.

“No, stop it. I know what you’re thinking about, and there’s no reason for you to take yourself back to it again. Never. And our father”, she stressed that word, probably to let the tension ease, “our father has changed his ways too. I’m not saying he’s the best person in this world, nobody magically becomes perfect, but he’s willing to listen, as long as you're willing to speak.”

“Willing to listen? Will he be willing to listen, when he learns his son still doesn’t have a ‘normal’ job, still writes those stupid songs that ‘can never help in life’, is still bisexual and actually in love with a man who isn’t his soulmate?”

Fabrizio paused. This was the first time he said the word “love” referring to Ermal. Surely he thought about it, called Ermal his love many times in his head, but admitting it not to himself, not even to Ermal, but to Romina, just like that, made him freeze. His sister didn’t act like he’s just dropped a bomb at her, the opposite in fact, she gave him a warm smile, and for a tiny moment the worry in her eyes was replaced with something happier, something Fabrizio would wish to always see on her face instead of causing a frown to appear.

“He will be. I wouldn't be telling you this, if I wasn’t sure. This sounds horribly cheesy, but from what I’ve seen I’d say he knows he’s made mistakes…”

“...and I’m the worst one of them”, he interrupted her, spitting the words more at himself than at her. Believing the man, the confusion and badly hidden disgust in whose eyes still haunted Fabrizio to present day, has changed into an understanding parent and, more importantly, an understanding grandfather? Fat chance.

_“Don’t you fucking dare”_ , Romina hissed, and he gritted his teeth to not reply. He could tell her a thousand things he did wrong and one more thousand he didn’t do when he was supposed to. He could say sorry and try to comfort her, but she knows better than to fall for this silly plan. He could take her attention elsewhere, for example, the fact that she probably shouldn't swear when Chiara is around, but all the words refused to be made. Amazing how fast he can dig his own grave, must be a Guinness record.

Romina stood in front of him, smaller yet as intimidating as ever, as her eyes turned darker with rage. She was a force to be reckoned with, he mused.

“So that means all of your songs are a mistake too? And all the things you did for Giada? She told me about your talk a few days ago, she seemed rather grateful. What about you introducing me to Michele? So no meeting should have happened, no love, no wedding, no Chiara? Is she a mistake too?”

“No, I-”

“And Ermal?” Romina didn’t let her brother say anything, and he didn’t mind. “Everything between you is wrong too?”

Suddenly the door behind Romina opened and revealed a sleepy child rubbing her eyes and looking at her mother and uncle with a confused expression.

“Mom? Zio?”, she yawned, “Why are you shouting?”

Fabrizio took that as a valid opportunity to not continue the conversation and escape before Romina would have him cornered. He knelt down to Chiara and tried to mask his mood with a smile.

“It’s all good now. Me and mom are not angry at each other.”

He felt too tired to make a believable excuse or to say anything smarter. Another yawn from his niece made it obvious she was satisfied with his answer for now.

“Now let’s go back to bed.”

“I don’t want to sleep! See, I’m awake!”

She looked at him with eyes as wide as she could master, and he softly chuckled, his lips curled into a soft smile saved only for the closest people in his life. And there was nothing bad about it, but he knew, he just knew that normally he would _laugh_.

***

The sea was vast and clear, the setting sun made its waves shine with shades of red and purple and turn greener further from the horizon. Fabrizio took a deep breath and let the salty air fill his lungs. Ermal had been walking beside him, but then he realised where exactly Fabrizio took him, and couldn't hold his excitement any longer. He was running to the sea, his sonorous laughter lingered in the fresh breeze and in Fabrizio’s ears, and no song could be the better soundtrack for this moment. Ermal’s silhouette strangely, beautifully dark against the wistful colours, the infectious happiness he radiated, the trail on the sand where Fabrizio walked, mirroring Ermal’s steps and noticing how their shoe measures were probably the same, as his foot fit perfectly into Ermal’s traces. It was still too cold to swim, so when he finally reached the waves caressing the shore, Ermal was still there, looking at the distance. There was a small ship gently rocking in the water, but Fabrizio could tell his boyfriend’s attention was elsewhere. His boyfriend. He couldn't fight the tingling desire to whisper the words soundlessly, and he liked how they rolled of his tongue, easily, calmly, with a hint of something strong and powerful. Just like the waves. He smiled at the comparison. Who would have thought he’d be watching the sunset while dedicating romantic metaphors to someone who didn’t know but surely wouldn't mind it at all? Life is strange sometimes.

“Bizio…” Ermal finally spoke, his voice low and quiet. Fabrizio still hasn’t fully got used to the new nickname and he doubted he ever would. It sounded so… foreign. So gentle, so sweet, so graceful he couldn't picture himself being called this. Without the roaring “r” reminding him of his own angry cries, or the spitting “f” which so often could stand for “failure”. The warmth set in him mixed with guilt with no origin, and that made him inhale deeply once again, this time not just for the sake of feeling the sea breathe.

A hand took his own, and another one rested on his shoulder, awaking Fabrizio from his trance. He brushed his fingers against Ermal’s and then slowly pulled away to put an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders and bring him closer, so close that he would feel the other’s breathing on his neck, hear the pleased sound whenever he kissed the dark curls, notice his own pulse skyrocketing as Ermal would respond with featherlight caresses.

“You look so lost in thought…” Ermal murmured against his skin. “I've said, like, three things to you, and you didn't answer. You can tell me what’s bothering you.”

Fabrizio closed his eyes. Thousands pictures flashed in front of him, every next one more horrifying than all the previous ones, the images that should never be brought up, when there was a sunset to watch and a hand to hold. Those were saved for the lonely nights and frustrated mornings, when he hid his face under the pillow and layed there for hours until the sun managed to grab him by the collar and force him to get out of bed. Maybe he would've felt better, if he’d already confessed what has been haunting him, but Ermal would’ve definitely felt worse, so talking wasn’t an option no matter how ready the words were to spill.

“It’s not that important, trust me.” He knew Ermal would do it, even if Fabrizio himself believed himself not to be trusted. “How about you tell me those things you said again?”

Nothing reflected Ermal noticing the change of tone in Fabrizio’s voice, but somehow it was clear that he noticed. And didn’t push. Fabrizio would bring him even closer now, if there was a free inch of space between them.

“Well, firstly I thanked you for bringing me here. This is a wonderful place, I’ve been here before, but it’s different with you. Calmer and more welcoming.”

The sea was indeed calm, no strong wind, no waves high enough to throw the water at them. In all this serenity the turmoil in his head seemed noisier, louder and ten times more destructive.

“The second thing is…”

They were interrupted by a phone ringing. Ermal fished the device out of his pocket, visibly annoyed at it for ruining the moment, but as soon as he saw the name on the screen, he flashed his most affectionate smile. Fabrizio was curious. The last time someone dared to call his boyfriend on their date Ermal nearly smashed his phone to the ground, so the person calling must be really special for him. The curiosity increased more, as he heard an unfamiliar word instead of the usual “pronto”. Then another unfamiliar word. And another. He was pretty sure he’s never witnessed Ermal speaking this language, but it didn’t take long to figure out what language it was. Fabrizio was mesmerized, the sounds that came out of Ermal’s mouth were so beautiful and unreal, he wanted to kiss this mouth so much. The sun has almost set, and in the dying lights Ermal’s shy smile looked ethereal. When Ermal ended the call, Fabrizio couldn't tell how much time had passed, too distracted to pay attention to anything outside their little world.

“Oh, don’t look at me like I’ve grown a third ear”, Ermal chuckled mischievously.

“Even with a third ear you’ll still be gorgeous.”

Fabrizio finally kissed him, tasted these soft welcoming lips again and made a mental note to himself to ask Ermal to speak Albanian more often. The effect of this language was something else, though so was the effect of everything Ermal did.

They parted for air and shared a few more kisses, because it wasn’t possible to get enough, it was so _addicting_ , Ermal was so addicting. Fabrizio had always seen this as an overused metaphor, but now he felt it with every body cell. In those toothrotting romance stories they portray addiction as the unapologetic happiness whenever you are with your love and the sense of longing whenever you are separated. Fabrizio didn’t need to be told what addiction was, didn’t need to be reminded how badly one could handle it and how easy it was to lose control. He wondered how far the similarities would go. How helpless he would be. If only Ermal could make him feel just a tiny bit worthy, wouldn't that lead to him becoming dependent on Ermal? Wouldn’t he be a burden again? Wouldn't he lose him like he lost others who grew tired of him?

“Was that Albanian?” he asked only to distract himself.

“Yes, it was my grandma who called. She doesn’t speak Italian.”

“She lives in Albania?”

Ermal nodded.

“She visits us sometimes. Last time she was there for New Year. She wants to come here again in summer. Apparently scared I’m becoming too skinny”, he laughed and then smiled with the same shyness and care as when he was talking on the phone.

“Do you miss it?” Fabrizio blurted out without thinking. Ermal’s smile faded in a second. Fabri was ready to apologise and from now on bite his tongue when he suddenly decides it’s a great idea to ask another question, but he didn’t have a chance to say anything.

“Let’s take a walk”, Ermal suggested while looking at the already darker sea.

Fabrizio nodded silently and walked beside his boyfriend, synchronizing their steps and adjusting to Ermal’s pace. There was nothing better to do anyway, nothing that didn’t involve him spoiling the moment.

“I miss it sometimes”, Ermal started after about a minute of heavy silence. “It will always be home to me, just like Italy is. I know it’s not fair to make an old woman cross the sea for a chance to see me, when I should be the one visiting her. The truth is I’m not sure it’s only her there waiting for me.”

His last words were full of tension, hidden emotions intertwined in a web around his rapidly pulsating heart. Fabrizio didn’t dare to open his mouth. Out of instinct he grabbed Ermal’s hand and was instantly surprised with how eager his love was to accept the gesture.

“We didn’t go away from there. We ran. My mother and siblings. Grandma stayed, _he_ couldn't harm her. Not that he wanted, it’s always been us, me and mom.”

Ermal suddenly stopped and looked at his feet, then at the sea. The last lights slowly faded, the sun has already drown, and Fabrizio felt like drowning too. It was similar to watching a death scene in a film, when it becomes clear that the character dies, but you refuse to believe, so you press the pause button and shudder a little as you breathe, not able to take your eyes off the screen. Now Ermal paused his whole world, and Fabrizio waited for him to press play again. He had a thousand words, yet none of them were right, so he remained silent and stuck with occasionally stroking the lines of Ermal's palm with his thumb, as if to remind he was there, he will always be there. Because the word “always” stopped being meaningless.

“My father. I don’t want to call him that, I don’t want to call him anything at all. When we got away, he wasn’t with us anymore, I don’t know if he had found someone else to torture or just had had enough of us. There were no more beatings, that mattered the most. You know, I still freeze whenever I see a child telling someone they got a black eye because of a fight with classmates. And it’s still considered a believable lie. Sometimes I’m scared nothing ever changes.”

Ermal turned around for a moment, and Fabrizio saw the glint of tears in his eyes, his clenched jaw, the angry wrinkles appearing on his forehead. He never wanted to see his Ermal like this: bitter, mad, looking so cold blooded on the outside but with vulnerability reflected in his broken unsure gestures. “Protect him”, screamed the voice in Fabrizio’s head, and no reaction followed. Sounds stuck in his throat, forming the heavy lump, as he processed everything he had heard.

“He tried to contact us again. That bastard got Sabina’s number from somewhere and called her. She was fifteen then, I guess she seemed like the easiest target to him. I heard her yelling and rushed there… Then I heard his voice through the speaker. I couldn't snatch the phone away to give him a piece of mind, I couldn't ask Sabina to end the call, I couldn't even move. But she could”, a weak shielded smile appeared on Ermal’s face as he spoke. “ _She told him to fuck off._ A couple of days later she changed her number, as soon as possible. She has always been brave, far braver than me.”

Another wistful look at the sea, but this time shorter. Fabrizio didn’t dare disturb Ermal in his current state, not when there was so much going on in both of their heads, Ermal choosing the words, Fabrizio taking them in. The “character” in the “scene” has already “died”, and now the screen was black and empty. The older man’s head felt too heavy, as if it threatened to make him fall to the sand. Ermal deserved none of this, nor did his siblings and mother, but stating that fact wouldn't do any good now. Approaching him with touch and not words could be a better solution, however, at this point Fabrizio wasn’t sure if he should, as Ermal was sensitive to physical contact, and the least Fabrizio wanted to do was making him feel worse by a too sudden touch. A minute passed. Maybe more.

“I wrote a song about him.”

Fabrizio was stunned. That was absolutely not what he expected. Ermal never mentioned he wrote songs himself, and he definitely wasn’t the author of Ameba4 songs. Though this was not the time to ask this sort of questions or ask the younger man to sing. Fabrizio couldn't deny: he was curious, the thought of hearing Ermal’s music and this lovely voice was driving him crazy, the image of the concert where they indirectly confessed their feelings to each other was and will probably forever be fresh in his mind.

“I've never played it for anyone, but I can show you. We’ll just need to get a guitar.”

It was probably for the best that Fabri decided against bringing his instrument to the beach. When he thought about doing it, he imagined a cozy romantic evening with them resting together to the sound of music and crushing waves. What Ermal offered was so much more, sharing one of the most painful parts of his life story, sharing with him of all people.

“Let’s go home. Unless you want to stay for a while?” Fabrizio asked gently, not wanting to pressure his boyfriend.

“No, let’s go.”

As they almost reached the end of the beach and stepped their feet on the solid ground, Ermal turned his head to Fabrizio and eyed him with curiosity.

“What do you mean by home? Whose home?”

Fabri’s cheeks flushed. He wasn’t sure himself which house he was referring to. It felt so right to be near Ermal, to stay together, to hear his voice and breathe in the smell of his hair that location didn’t matter. His house was a lonely place without Ermal’s presence. Fabrizio wasn’t sure if this feeling was reciprocated, so he only shrugged and said he was ok with both variants. He received a warm smile as a response and a shy kiss, and felt the weight he didn’t know he was carrying slip from his shoulders. The storm within him slowly calmed down. Some doubts started creeping back again, but he only gripped onto Ermal’s hand tighter. A few more moments in the fragile peace, that’s all he could ask for.


	8. I'm a good excuse for all your bad habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ermal is about to have a concert in a place very familiar to Fabrizio. What could go wrong? (Spoiler alert - everything.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it has been long since I updated, life has been throwing some shit at me. This fic might go on hiatus, but I'm not sure. If you see I don't update for a pretty long time, it isn't because I don't want to or I'be forgotten about wafts. I just don't have as much time and energy as I want to have.  
> Ok, enough whining. Warning: this is the heaviest chapter in this fic, imo. So be prepared and don't hate me too much (please?)  
> The song is Nobody by Halestorm. It's one of the main sources of inspiration for this story, so if you listen to it I'll probably love you forever

He woke up to the sounds of pouring rain. He forgot to close the window before going to sleep, and now each raindrop met the glass with a drumming thud. The bright numbers on his phone screen showed it was only half past two, and he collapsed on the bed again with a deep sigh. Another stupid nightmare, he hadn’t had them in a while and got so relaxed that waking up in the middle of the night left him lost. He tried to go back to sleep, but his eyes refused to close, and the thoughts kept rummaging through his head, crushing his skull from the inside to get out. There had to be a way to calm them down.

He wished he had stayed at Ermal’s house, he spotted some sleeping pills in Ermal’s fridge, which could come in handy now. Fabrizio knew it was stupid, and he hated himself for not being able to keep it together, but he couldn't go and buy pills for himself, the familiar voice judged him with a soft yet accusing tone, reminding how a person should take care of themselves without help from the medical supplies and how seeking comfort in those small round objects weakened his will. Though he wouldn't have needed to be a disgrace to his father’s values, if there had been Ermal near, if there had been a possibility to gently stroke the sensitive skin on his boyfriend’s face and kiss him somewhere between the ear and neck, listening to his shy giggles or quiet little moans.

Fabrizio took his phone in his hands again. Looked through the contacts, found the list of the most popular ones and clicked on the first name. Only five letters, probably his favourite ones in all the alphabets, separated him from the person whose voice echoed in his ears along with the heartbreaking melody Ermal shared with him. Fabrizio still shivered whenever he thought about this voice, usually so full of love and care, being angry, being pained.

_“Bizio?”_

_Ermal had just finished singing. He was sitting on the couch, still clutching the guitar tightly in his hands, biting his lips until little blood stains painted them red. He was tense, but so was Fabrizio, who curled his hands into fists, gritted his teeth and looked somewhere past Ermal, past the wall, past the Rome lights outside, looking right in the eyes of the man he never met, the man who should wish he would never meet Fabrizio._

_“If I see this bastard, I’ll kill him.”_

Fabrizio softly traced the image near the name on the screen, the sharp lines of Ermal’s face, the wild waves of hair. It was so lonely without Ermal, like all the world was an endless staircase, and he was the one to have a candle. Without him Fabrizio stumbled and barely kept his balance, without him the darkness was consuming, entangling around his body and tightening the hold until there was no power left to scream.

With shaky fingers Fabrizio typed a short message. Deleted. Typed another one. Deleted again. Every new combination of symbols was worse than the previous one. Fabrizio was sometimes mocked for his English, but his Italian seemed to be no better. In the end he decided the stupidest text ever would seem casual enough not to raise alarm.

“Hey. Are you asleep?”

Barely a minute had passed before a message flashed in front of him.

“Yes, very much. In fact, you’re talking to Gigi, the neversleeping demon of sarcasm resting on Ermal’s shoulder.”

“Well, then. Won’t disturb you two.”

Fabrizio locked his phone and put it away. Seemed like he didn’t cause panic. It didn’t look like he woke Ermal up, but there was no guarantee, and he decided against sending any more texts.

A sudden phone vibration startled him. As expected, the familiar letters and numbers. The photo of the man with a bright smile, which took Fabrizio’s breath away every time he saw it.

“Pronto.”

“Hey, Bizio”, his boyfriend sounded a little tired, his voice low and slightly husky.

“Sorry for-”

“No, stop it. When am I asleep anyway? Did something happen?”

“I just missed you, especially hearing your voice.”

He didn’t have the guts to say no, and he really missed Ermal, that was true. So no harm done, right?

“Then prepare yourself to hearing it more, cause I'm coming to you.”

“No, that’s really not necessary, it’s not needed. I mean appreciated, very much, but not needed, you shouldn't…”

“You missed me, I missed you like crazy, so why not?”

Fabrizio couldn't argue with that. Plus, hearing Ermal saying something so sweet without a care in the world did things to him, things he’d wish to feel more often.

Only half an hour (not that he had been counting minutes, absolutely not) the doorbell ringing echoed in the room, that alarm strangely sounded so cheerful to Fabrizio’s ears despite him usually hating the buzz it made. Ermal’s eyes, with adoration and a glimpse of sadness, Ermal’s cheeks flushed because of the wind or the fact that Fabrizio wasn't wearing a shirt, Ermal’s lips, a bit rough, a bit dry, _how he missed this._ He couldn't tell how much time passed, as they cuddled on the bed, their legs entangled, Ermal’s fingers playing with Fabri’s hair, softly pulling with a need for attention. And he gave attention with chaste forehead kisses and hugs just a little tighter and more lingering than usual.

“You know it can’t always go on like this”, Ermal murmured while kissing the same spot on his boyfriend’s neck for probably a hundredth time. As Fabrizio frowned in confusion, he continued.

“You being unhappy about something and bottling it up. You don’t have to be the one protecting everyone all the time. Just… let me be there for you.”

“You are here. You are here now, with me. It’s enough to make it better. You don’t know how much you are helping me.”

A gentle caress, the smoothness of Ermal’s skin. This wonderful angel didn’t deserve the weight of the baggage Fabrizio carried, nothing heavy and dirty should ever touch this soul. Fabrizio stayed silent for a while, fighting back the words, the cries, the helplessness scratching his throat.

“Fabri, please.”

Tears threatened to fall, the words were determined to spill, and Fabrizio couldn't shake off the feeling that he was doing something incredibly wrong and that Ermal, of course, noticed it but didn’t point out. Not having the strength to speak calmly, Fabrizio crashed his lips with Ermal’s and focused on the muffled moan he heard as he deepened the kiss.

The sunrise caught them still entangled, Ermal’s body shielding Fabrizio, the curly head resting against the tattooed chest, the ear pressed to the inked skin where the steady heartbeat was most audible.

***

“Fabri! I have news!”

Ermal was practically beaming, bursting with joy and excitement, as his fingers kept tugging on Fabri’s shirt to get the attention he sought. Fabrizio leant back and made Ermal fall with him on the bed where he spent the last few minutes waiting for the curly one to finish talking on the phone. Now they both were laughing, Ermal - apparently because of the things he had just learned, Fabrizio - out of the sudden rush of happiness that flowed over him at the sight of his finally happy boyfriend, who was too carefree to pay attention to anything. Fabri would never let him go, if it meant him staying this excited forever.

“We got a gig! We’re playing this weekend!” Ermal giggled into his ear.

“Wow, that’s sudden! But great news! Where are you playing?”

“Oh, it’s a bar near the city centre. Let me remember the name…”

For a couple of seconds Ermal narrowed his eyes in confusion, and Fabrizio swore he could die from the cuteness this human-shaped ray of light radiated. Until the familiar name filled the air, echoing from every corner of the room like a bullet ricocheting and hitting him right in the head.

“I think it was ‘The Kraken’?”

Fabrizio sat up, dragging Ermal with him. The atmosphere changed just in a moment, all the laughter and easiness gone and replaced by a growing bundle of nerves, a web both of them were caught in. They held each other’s gaze. The slightly open mouth, the almost frantic blinking, fear finding its way back into Ermal’s eyes. Finally after a long pause Fabrizio managed to choke out his words.

“You have to cancel, please, you really…”

No other sounds came, but the ones that filled the suffocating silence earned him a more disturbed glance and the last remnants of warmth leaving, as Ermal sat next to him. Just a few inches separated them, but Fabrizio wasn’t sure about reaching out to take the other’s hands into his own trembling sweaty ones. He knew he owed his boyfriend at least an explanation for ruining their happiest moment. Would anything excuse him always ruining everything at this point? If it was up to him, he’d never forgive himself. But Ermal wasn’t him. And while it gave hope, it crushed the same hope with force. He inhaled sharply, when he felt a strange absence of air in his lungs.

“You don’t know what this place is. It’s hell, literal hell, and most people there really suit it. Ermal, you shouldn't… You don’t know what they can do, what kind of business they keep going there, what deals they make, Ermal, please, don’t… It’s the home for all the scum, they constantly drag new people there, to them, to this, don’t go-”

“Bizio, look at me.”

Fabrizio could swear he had never heard this lovely beautiful voice being so stern before. The request was repeated in the same tone, and Fabrizio had no choice but to obey.

“We’re not getting involved into anything. We’re not going to ‘make friends’ with the regulars, and I doubt we’ll ever visit the place again.”

Fabrizio opened his mouth at the word “again”, the word he wanted to hear less than any other, but Ermal interrupted him with a firm “no”.

“We’re just a band that will play for about forty minutes before going home and never returning. If you want to, I’ll forget about the existence of this bar once the concert is over.”

“No, you don’t understand! The concert shouldn't happen in the first place!” Fabrizio screamed. He stood up and started nervously pacing around trying to find the right words to convince his now startled boyfriend, who was taken aback by the reaction he got.

“They are dangerous people. Once you enter, all the exits close. It took me years to get out! You can't defend yourself from-”

_“You have no idea what I defended myself from.”_

That felt like a cold steely blade against his skin. Ermal continued before Fabrizio could form another thought.

“I'm perfectly capable of handling things. Can you just trust me?”

“No, Ermal, I…”

He stopped, as he noticed the change of look in Ermal’s eyes. Pain. Sharp, shocking, unapologetic, the one he saw that fateful night of their first kiss.

“So that’s what this all is about?” voice so small and quiet, too quiet even for a whisper. Before Fabrizio could hold onto the opportunity to explain himself (if the incoherent rambling and a few gasps counted as an explanation), Ermal regained his strength.

“I’m not a child and not a porcelain vase, I can take care of myself, that I’m absolutely sure of. And I could try to take care of you, if you let me get just an inch closer. You think you’re doing what’s best for everyone, but it’s not, can’t you see? You are always so close and so far away, if you don’t trust me, why not just say it without all these words about protection? Your protection is suffocating me! And it’s suffocating you too, you are just not willing to admit it! I c-can’t…” he stumbled on his words, his anger died as fast as it appeared. “I can’t, not any… m-more…”

With unnatural movements, like a wind-up doll, Ermal stood up and quickly walked to the door. He almost turned around, as if wanting to steal one last glance, but then roughly shook his head. The curls bounced, and normally that would be enough for Fabrizio to wrap his arms around his boyfriend and ruffle his hair once again. But nothing was normal now. _Nothing at all._ His heart clenched as he heard a low tense goodbye and the door slam.

***

He cautiously approached the familiar side street. Funny how after all these years his legs still remembered the way as if the day he ran away from this place as fast as possible was yesterday. The neon lights above the door flickered in light blue, inviting regulars and strangers to take a few steps down the stairs and lose their money and dignity in the Kraken’s den. The symbol of the bar was there, the same red eyes, the same tentacles spreading out to grab the nearest person reckless enough to come close. He swallowed. Tonight that person was him.

Maybe Ermal was right, and he overreacted. Maybe there wasn’t so much to fear, so much to be worried about. Maybe the bar had another owner, someone who wasn’t going to sit there watching what happens on his property, or the old regulars had found another place to chill. He tried to be at least half as positive as Ermal would want him to be. However, it wasn’t working. The dread in his stomach and the heart violently beating against his ribcage told him nothing of these “maybe”-s was true. But no matter the bad feelings, he had to enter the place, he _had to_ check it for the proof that there was no need in canceling the show and that it was absolutely safe to play. Or, what seemed far more likely to him, the opposite. Either way staying on the street at night and mindlessly staring at the monstrous sea creature wasn’t what he came there for. With a shaky sigh he blinked a few times and went downstairs.

“The Kraken” wasn’t too crowded, but it never was. There was no visible sign of drug trafficking or gang meetings, but then again who would keep it out in the open? No familiar faces spotted yet. Cool. That meant his face was also unfamiliar to everyone. The last thing he needed was to run into a living breathing memory of his past mistakes. If ruining your own life completely and bringing pain to those close to you can be simply called this word.

“Anything for you? Something strong, I assume?” a voice called from behind, and only then Fabrizio realised he leaned on the counter. The bartender was a very young guy, barely in his twenties, and seemed even innocent in some twisted way. There was a certain flicker in his eyes, a flicker that reminded Fabri of another person he wanted to forget. A had the same look before he stopped believing in the world and himself.

“And why such an assumption?” Fabrizio tried to sound relaxed and even made a sloppy gesture, but the guy apparently didn’t want to cut him any slack.

“No offense, but you look like you need it.”

And that was true. His knees were shaken, the smell of alcohol hit him in the head, he was already losing to the urge to rush to the exit, to the streets, to the fresh air this place lacked.

“One whiskey. And don’t offer anything else.”

As the bartender asked him a couple of questions about the drink, Fabrizio only nodded: all his attention was elsewhere. He was scanning the area, no clue about what result could satisfy him. If he didn’t find anything, that would probably mean he wasn’t looking hard enough. Although if he found… he’d need all his remaining strength and a lot more to convince Ermal. If convincing was possible at all.

The whiskey tasted not so bad, and as he emptied the glass he assured himself it was only for the sake of a boost of courage. Suddenly he saw a figure approaching him with a mocking smirk.

“Fab, long time no see! Did nostalgia finally hit you too?”

The man raised his eyebrows and slightly hit Fabrizio’s shoulder as a form of greeting. There wasn’t enough time to dodge this _friendly_ gesture, so Fabrizio only held his breath and hoped not to collapse right there on the floor. He managed to shake his head, an uncontrollable movement that luckily seemed to fit the question.

“Oh, come on! We haven't seen you since the fall of the Roman empire! Guys, Fab is here!!!”

Fabrizio watched in horror, as the shout, almost as loud as the blasting music, and a hand wave attracted some attention from the other side of the bar. However, that was not the kind of reaction the “old friend” wanted: Fabrizio couldn't look away from the other man, who was now clearly annoyed.

“Lazy bastards. Stay here, I’ll get them.”

As soon as the _old friend’s_ back could no longer be spotted in the crowd, Fabrizio ran for the farthest corner in the opposite direction. The second he threw himself on the small couch his head was already spinning. He was speaking to someone in a ridiculously yellow shirt, he was doing some weird signs with his hands, he was drinking, and drinking, and drinking, but all of it felt nearly mechanical. Little fragments of thoughts were circulating in his mind, returning to the same images every once in a while.

Ermal. His gentle touches, his long fingers stroking the strings, his shivering skin that felt so good under Fabrizio’s lips. The tension and heaviness of his movements, as he dragged himself across the room to the door, that one last look that Fabrizio didn’t even witness. His Ermal. His, really? Bold statement.

He could already imagine trying to reach Ermal’s number, in the dead of the night or in the light of day, and finding out his own had been blocked. No more discs bought from the little stack on his table, saved specially for one person. No more teasing from his friends and family, because there would be nothing to tease him about. Or maybe because he wouldn't have any friends or family. He wouldn't blame them if they all decided they had enough. He had enough with himself too.

“So there you are!”

Fabrizio didn’t even need to look up from his fifth (sixth? seventh?) glass to recognise the owner of that voice. And at this point he was tired of fighting and running away. When he heard the couch creaking beside him, he didn't make any effort to escape. The unnaturally excited speech barely reached his ears, as he downed one glass after another and occasionally asked for more. Maybe he did belong here, there was a reason he kept coming back to this place no matter how determined he was to never step a foot here. The kraken’s grip is strong. Perhaps the emblem was a warning sign the whole time. Another sign he blatantly ignored.

“It’s kinda a shame you chose this day. Would be much more interesting on Saturday or Sunday. We have little gigs here. No-one too famous, just local bands.”

“And?” Fabrizio leaned over the table, roughly put out of his absent state.

“What? You want to sign up too, don’t you? That can be arranged, but it’s not that simple anymore. Everyone’s such a snob now. They just come and go, and you forget their name as easily as they forget this place. Some are normal, but it’s not like you can just march to them and share a cigarette or two. Or something else. Speaking of…”

“No”, Fabrizio’s tone was stern as ever. He knew damn well what that suggestion meant. “Leave me alone.”

“Man, don’t be like that! You know-”

“I said leave me alone!” he yelled and slammed his fist on the table, causing the alcohol to spill.

The man cursed but stood up. He quickly hid his fear behind a usual smirk.

“Fab, we-”

“Just fucking go!!!”

It worked. A few people stared at him, probably interested whether a bar fight would happen, but turned away, when he glared at them.

Fab. He tried to hard not to blame the nickname for his own failures. Claudio called him that sometimes, and it used to be enough for it to no longer be associated with…

“With the mess you are”, he finished the thought and put a half-empty glass further from himself only to drag it back a second later and chug down the liquid in one gulp. “What a failure you’ve become. He did right by leaving you.”

He promised Romina to stay safe. He promised Claudio not to get wasted. He promised Giada to think twice before doing something reckless. He internally promised Chiara to be worthy of this little angel. At night, while breathing in the scent of Ermal’s skin, he promised to never make the person he called his light upset and disappointed. A couple of hours passed, and all was broken. Unfixable. Unrepairable. Of course he fucked up again, that’s the only thing he has ever excelled at.

He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth to stop the sobs from coming. The bathroom was just a few steps away, but he knew once he enters it he wouldn't leave it for the rest of the night. Breathe in. Breathe out. Not that there’s any purpose for breathing. Another glass down…

“Wake. Up.”

…He felt a hand on his shoulder. He mumbled in annoyance and tried to shake it off, but the grip only tightened. If this is his “old friend” again-

“Fabri, wake up. Now.”

That voice wasn’t the one of that guy. It was female. And incredibly familiar. He almost jumped in his seat. Giada roughly shook his shoulder once more.

“Good. Now come with me.”

She took his hand and helped him up. His legs were in no condition to move, so holding onto the woman for dear life was the only way not to stumble and fall over after every shaky step. His vision was blurry, his mind was no better. He realised where he was being dragged only when the door shut behind them, and the fresh air made him shiver.

“He’s in the car. Don’t say anything, especially don’t ask questions. There will be time for that later.”

“How did you-”

“What did I say?”

She sounded serious, nearly threatening. What was she doing here? Why? Is this the last time he sees her before she cuts ties him for good? His headache was growing with every thought. At least the ground beneath him was a bit less shaky than before.

He felt himself being gently pushed on the backseat of a car. Giada’s car, he realized as he noticed a familiar toy on the glove box. But all thoughts about the car vanished, when he recognized the person sitting next to him. Ermal was staring at him with wide eyes. Fabrizio couldn't see well in the pale lights, but he swore he saw shock printed in these eyes. Ermal stayed frozen for a few more seconds and then threw his arms around Fabrizio, pulling him closer and whispering something incomprehensible. He heard his name being repeated a few times and something that sounded awfully similar to crying.

“Ermal…” he managed to choke out.

“One more word, and your ride ends here. Sorry, Ermal.”

Giada’s voice got softer in the end, and Fabrizio felt a punch of guilt. The engine was started. He leaned on Ermal’s shoulder and closed his eyes after the blue neon lights had disappeared in the distance.


	9. Cause I'm broken when I'm open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ermal and Fabrizio have "the talk", and each of them has a lot to learn about the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back! I'm not sure if this means less time between the updates, I'm still overwhelmed with stuff, but looks like my block has ended. Yeehaw?  
> The song is Broken by Seether. Since I mentioned it in one of the comments I couldn't get it out of my head.  
> Thanks to everyone who wanted me to continue this and supported me, I love you people ❤

White. The overwhelming white everywhere, screaming at him in a high-pitched voice from every corner. He covered his eyes with his hand and groaned. Every movement brought pain and then absolute numbness the next second. His head was aching, his stomach was churning, his hands were sweaty and shaken, and the bitter taste in his mouth topped all that. He exhaled loudly after a short try to get up, a very unsuccessful try interrupted by the heaviness of his own body dragging him back under the covers. He couldn't remember the last time he was in this state. He doubted if he could even remember his name now.

“Lay still. Don’t move. I’ll come back in a minute.”

It took him too long to register the words and recognise the voice he heard. Too long because Ermal had already disappeared behind the wooden door, and calling out for him brought no result except pain in the sore throat. He played the words in his head like a recording, over and over, thousands of times, desperately searching for any hint of emotion. No luck. If Ermal was barely holding himself from shouting at Fabrizio and throwing him out of the house, he was doing a very good job.

Yesterday was the day he lost Ermal. Not even today, today was just the aftermath, the time to draw the thick red line between them and go as far away as possible from that line, go in separate directions to be sure they will never cross it again. He will never forgive himself, why should Ermal forgive him instead? This isn’t fair. Ermal is better off without him poisoning the atmosphere with cigarette smoke and the smell of dirty streets that never washed out of his skin. And still he was stupidly holding onto a tiny string of hope, like a child clutching a single helium balloon and naively expecting it to fly him away to the wonderland.

Fabrizio was too old to believe in wonderlands. Fabrizio was too late to believe in himself.

“Here, take this.”

He didn’t notice the footsteps coming closer or the shade suddenly replacing the blindingly white light, as Ermal's head covered the huge windows in his vision. It took him a few seconds to leave his trail of thoughts and focus on the face of the man in front of him. God, Ermal was gorgeous. Even with his curls messy and clearly untouched by the brush since yesterday, even with dark bags under his eyes, red, puffy and terrifyingly empty. Maybe this is the last look Ermal will ever gift him with. And this is still a lot more than what he deserves after what he did.

A pill. A glass of water he tried to hold tightly but still nearly broke, and only the firm touch of warm long fingers saved the water from spilling on the bed sheets. His thumb accidentally brushed against Ermal’s palm, but Fabrizio pulled away, unsure if touching Ermal any way was allowed now.

He swallowed the pill and closed his eyes for a second. Maybe if he stays still long enough, the pain will disappear itself. Of course it never worked like that, but the suggestion sounded too tempting for his cloudy mind not to agree.

***

When he woke up later, his head wasn’t spinning as much, and the room didn’t drown in brightness unlike before. Now he could see the pictures on the opposite wall, mostly photos of Ermal with his family or band members. There was a colourful drawing of four people floating on the small ship to some land in the distance. Ermal had told him Sabina made it while they had been traveling to Italy from Albania. She refused to sleep, so the pencils and paper their mother brought from the place they had to call home came in handy. Next to the drawing was another photo. A new one, Fabrizio didn’t see it before in Ermal’s house. However, it was saved in the gallery of his phone. They took a selfie on their trip to the beach, their hair ruffled by the wind, Ermal’s head on his shoulder, the sun or each other’s presence making their faces light up. Later he emailed the photo along with other pictures of them to Ermal. Something in Fabrizio’s chest clenched. How could he have this and then crush it so violently?

“Are you feeling better?”

Fabrizio turned his head and saw Ermal sitting on the edge of the bed as if he was the guest here (a very unwanted guest, moreover). Seemed like he was in the same state, except his expression changed. It wasn't empty anymore, but the emotions it held were indecipherable. Fabrizio nodded to the question. Physically he felt a bit better, mentally… At least he didn’t feel like hitting his head against the wall, knocking down all the beautiful family portraits and their own memories. Maybe only like giving himself a good smack in the face. Or two. Or a hundred.

“Have you slept?” he asked absentmindedly as he noticed the circles under Ermal’s eyes became even bigger. Ermal shrugged.

“No. The traffic outside is so thrilling to watch, you should try it. Better than anything you’ll see at the cinema. Fabri, do you seriously think I can sleep after…” he trailed off and sighed. Normally he’d sound annoyed and sarcastic, and Fabri guessed he probably tried to sound exactly like that but failed. There was only tiredness, sadness and something else he couldn't figure out yet.

“Ermal…” a weak sound came out. Fabrizio didn’t finish the phrase, he didn’t know how. Any form of “sorry” was probably better than anything else at this point, but still it sounded so childish, so naive, as if he expected this little stupid word to carry enough power to fix what took days to break. Days, because it started before that night. Days, because it lasted longer than his denial, longer than their misunderstanding, perhaps longer than he knew Ermal.

Every word was wrong. But tense sharp silence was ten times worse.

“Please, say something”, he begged. He accepted this was the only path left for him to take, be a coward once again and prove how worthless he was.

“No. You say. What’s going on with you? Do you know how many things I thought about, when I called you a thousand times in three hours and never got an answer, how many scenarios I pictured? Do you know I went to your flat and hoped against everything that you were there, and then I screamed for you to come out until your neighbours got angry and threatened to call the police? I waited for you, and maybe I can wait a bit more, but this can't go on forever, we don’t have forever, honestly, I don't know what we have anymore. And if this is still not enough for you to talk, not enough to mean something, then it makes me wonder _if I ever meant something to you-_ ”

His voice broke at the last second. Fabrizio almost started with “no, that’s not true, absolutely not, Ermal”, but then remembered how the last time he began speaking with “no” ended. So he swallowed and tried to think for a minute, think of how to comfort Ermal without sounding apologetic, without playing the victim, without making him doubt he was the best part of Fabrizio’s world. He forcefully ignored all the things he wanted to say and kept all his attention on the ones he had to. At first he was about to ask Ermal not to interrupt, because otherwise he would never be able to continue talking, but quickly realised here he had no right to make conditions, even if it was more like a desperate cry for help.

The words flowed over stumbling on one another and turning into a barely understandable mess of sounds mixed with sharp loud breaths and sniffs. He didn’t notice the moment hot tears started streaming down his face and turned into the unstoppable waterfall together with his words, his cries, his silent mumbling. He didn’t wipe them away, a short pause could ruin it all, give him a moment of false peace, too sweet to come back from it to the world, where every pair of eyes in the pictures was staring into his soul in an attempt to find something clean and pure, something he never had.

He talked about his failures, counted them and lost count (he’d be surprised if there was a name for the number that big). He talked about his father and threw away some words drawn children with weak smiles weren’t meant to hear (something told him they heard anyway, not now but earlier in their undrawn lives, and that thought made his blood boil). He talked about Romina and how many times he shouted at her to shut up only because she was right and he was too caught up in his lies to accept it. He talked about his lack of self-control which he so often mistook for self-defense. He talked about his friends who supported him no matter what, and no matter what he was mad at them for it, as he thought of it as fake, because there was nothing for him to be proud of, not an accomplishment to celebrate, not a song to sing without fear, not a dream to believe in. He talked about Chiara and the feeling of guilt that washed over him, when he recognized his own features in hers or thought about how he deserved her less than anyone on this goddamn planet. He talked about how he’d willingly cut his own arm not to see the wolf there ever again. He talked about Ermal, about the love he was too weak for, about the dumb wish to melt into the smooth pale skin to never be apart from Ermal, because only with him he could breathe without coughing later, he could let the smile reach his eyes, about how he’d gladly throw the bad parts of himself away for Ermal’s happiness, but that meant putting all of himself into the trash can, because he was infected, rotten to the core. His words drowned in sobs. The sound of his own voice made him cringe in disgust. He felt naked, bloody and torn to pieces. His whole body kept violently shaking after the sobs had turned silent.

“Ti amo.”

He opened his eyes and frantically wiped the tears away to raise his head and look around in disbelief. He must have misunderstood, his mind must be playing tricks again. Surely that couldn't be Ermal’s reaction? Impossible. Cruel. Wrong. _Ti amo anch'io._

“Look at me. Please.”

A short whisper. A tender touch, his cheeks being gently cupped in hands, two infinite black oceans staring into him, wet, shiny, glistening with tears he wanted to wipe away so badly. Staring at him… fondly? Why? He couldn't stop drowning into Ermal’s eyes, his mind went blank, his heart was stuck in his throat, beating loudly.

“I love you so much. Never, do you hear me, never think of yourself this low. We will get through this, every step together. But you have to promise me this _together_. If you feel something just a bit similar to this, you’ll tell me, and we’ll figure it out. You are so strong, you can’t imagine how. Promise me?”

“Yes. Yes, I promise. I love you too, Ermal, I love you. Do… do you really forgive me?” Fabrizio still couldn't believe the sound of his own voice and the words rolling off his tongue with such ease. He wanted it to be true, he would give anything for it to be true, anything Ermal asked of him, be it the whole world or a simple promise, so simple, so hard to keep before but now maybe not. He tried to sound as sincere as possible, put all his strength in his voice, still broken from sobbing. And it seemed to be enough, because Ermal gave him a weak fragile smile and nodded.

“Yes.”

Soft trembling lips covered his own, hands found their way to his hair, Ermal smiled into the kiss and then let out a heartfelt chuckle as they parted. Fabrizio caressed Ermal’s cheek with the tips of his fingers as if afraid a more insistent touch could make Ermal suddenly disappear. He whispered “I love you” between kisses countless times and once more to be sure his words were heard, understood, remembered. If his friends saw him now, they would smile and share a knowing look over him becoming this sentimental, but he couldn't care less. Ermal didn’t seem to mind it one bit, and nothing was more important than his reaction.

A minute or ten passed, and they stayed in the same position, eyes closed, foreheads pressed together, breathing synchronised. The knot in Fabrizio’s chest slowly weakened, the pain stopped, even his headache seemed to be cured by pills, sleep or Ermal’s presence (all explanations were valid, but he preferred the last one for sure). His fingers traveled along the sharp lines of Ermal’s jaw and cheekbones. He exhaled in relief, when his fingertips finally stopped feeling the wet traces.

“I’ll come to the store in the evening. I was supposed to work today, and I owe everyone the truth. And I need to thank Giada”, Fabrizio whispered still not opening his eyes. “Speaking of, how did you two find me?”

“When you weren’t answering your phone and you weren’t home, I…” Ermal murmured. Fabrizio gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“When I couldn't find you anywhere… I thought about calling someone else who knew you, but I didn't have any numbers of your friends in my phone. I know I have Roberto’s number somewhere, but I couldn't find it then. But I called the guys, the band. They should’ve had some contacts, since we made the deal with your store, and they gave me Giada’s number. She immediately knew where to go...”

Ermal paused, and Fabrizio could feel the question in his intonation. The first challenge to keep his promise was right there, and he couldn't afford not being up for it.

“It’s not the first time. Name each of the dirtiest places in Rome, and I’d probably tell you she had picked me up from there. Either her or Claudio.”

“We’ll do everything for it to be the last time. Together?”

Now the question was more direct, and so was the answer.

“Yes. _Together._ ”

“There’s one more thing we have to discuss. The concert.”

Fabrizio stiffened but held his breath, waiting for the next words. Ermal slightly pulled away, but his hand stayed on Fabrizio’s neck, gently caressing the tanned skin.

“I’m not cancelling it. I know what you think, but you weren’t the only one who looked for information about the place, and my research was probably as effective as yours. And much less dangerous. I will be extremely careful. I’ll call you when I get there and when the concert ends. If you want, we can choose a place, and you’ll drive there to pick me up. And we’ll stream the concert. It’s good for you and the band, even if there will be three people watching it. You can see us performing without going there. How does that sound?”

“Actually… good”, Fabrizio stuttered. All suggestions were reasonable, and he didn’t have any arguments against them. He couldn't stop worrying, but that disturbing feeling in the back of his mind was nothing compared to his earlier fear. He will survive it.

Ermal beamed at him and eagerly embraced him. Fabrizio held him tightly, pressing against his chest to be sure they still fit as easily as before, nothing was lost, no missing pieces.

They pulled away from each other, Fabrizio wanted nothing more than to reach out to Ermal again, but something in the man's posture stopped him. Ermal was wistfully looking somewhere past Fabrizio, his gaze turned sad, he cowered as if feeling a sudden weight on his shoulders. Fabrizio was carefully watching him, silently asking what was on his mind and trying so hard not to worry and not to expect him to change his mind about their relationship.

“There’s something else. Just know I don't blame you for...” Ermal paused. “I’ve kept things from you too.”

He drew a few deep breaths and continued. Fabrizio couldn't tear his gaze away from the way Ermal was nervously wringing his hands, still staring into the void.

“My mark… it wasn’t always like this. It used to be dark blue with a few lighter stripes. About a month before we met, it had changed to black and white.”

Fabrizio couldn't hold back a short gasp. Despite him never being truly interested in how exactly soulmate marks worked (or pretending not to pay attention to it), some things were inevitable to know, as they had been forcefully pushed into the head of every person since the day lines of different colour appeared on their skin. And even before that. He remembered the time he flinched, when he saw Chiara drawing a flower on her doll’s shoulder with a red marker.

_“My soulmate is dead.”_

Shivers went down Fabrizio’s spine, as Ermal looked him straight in the eye, his mouth slightly open, desperation in his features. A car loudly honked outside, a man shouted for someone named Fede. Neither of them turned to the sound. The room suddenly seemed too small and threatening, like the walls were about to start moving forward. The silence was growing heavier with each shuddering breath, yet Fabrizio was at the loss of words. He opened his mouth with an unclear intention and then closed. A sound too small to mean something of course didn’t help the situation the slightest. Ermal regained control over his emotions quicker, though his tone revealed how ready his thoughts were to slip away again.

“I always believed in soulmates. Not the cheesy fairytales, though I didn’t have anything against them, too. I always wondered about that person who was destined to be with me, to understand me completely. I imagined our meeting many times, though I told myself not to, for it not to lead to disappointment, if something goes wrong. And it went wrong. I didn’t know what to do. So I did nothing. I wrapped myself in music, and it seemed easier this way. Rehearsals, concerts or just talks about adding something new to our tune, I felt happy then. It was like the first fragile snow, beautiful, bright. It takes your breath away but melts too fast, and then there’s nothing but mud, and everything seems even dirtier and uglier than before. I spent more and more time playing, making songs, surrounding myself with music any way I could. Then I found your store. And it first I really kept going there for the music, for the atmosphere. Giada did a perfect job at arranging the place, it feels like home. It was harder and harder to leave. I’m an addict, Fabri. It’s not drugs or alcohol, but does it make it that better?”

Fabrizio didn’t dare to interrupt. Ermal’s words slowly started making sense in his head. All these random visits to the store, their strange banters, Ermal’s tight concert schedule, his love for sudden trips to the beach or walks around the neighbourhood. Ermal always found something to occupy himself with. Ermal always found a reason not to stay alone. Fabrizio asked himself how he didn't realise it himself without the answer being directly thrown in his face.

“I dropped out of university. I still haven’t told mom or anyone else. She’ll ask me what I’m going to do, and I don’t have a plan. I didn't see any point at studying, but what if I ruined my life with leaving? She did so much for me, and I became this. She won’t say anything to hurt me, but she’ll be disappointed no matter how much she’ll try to hide it. And Rinald and Sabina, they’ll see what I’ve become, what will they think?”

“From what I’ve heard about them from you, they won’t be disappointed or mad. Maybe worried, but you’re worried too. You told me, and I dare to think it went alright. It's different, we, us, and your family, they are… And whatever happens and has already happened, you said we’ll figure it out, and I’ll say it right back. Maybe not today, but sometime we will.”

Ermal smiled shyly and giggled.

“Do I really hear this from you?”

Fabrizio studied Ermal’s face for a second, and while he could still feel unpleasant thoughts running in his boyfriend’s head, Ermal seemed just a bit more relaxed, which was enough.

“What, can’t I have a change of heart? Especially since it’s your fault. You showed me I was going nowhere, so why don’t we change it?”

“Sounds too much like wedding vows. Should I have worn something more traditional for the occasion, mmm, Fabbri?”

“Oh, come on!” Fabrizio playfully pushed Ermal, and he dramatically fell on the bed, still giggling. God, he missed Ermal’s laughter, missed this easiness between them, their little bubble nobody else could enter. Everything he had almost lost. The realization hit him hard. He lied next to Ermal and kissed him, smiling at Ermal’s complaints about how his beard tickled the smooth skin.

“Seriously though…” Ermal’s voice became quiet and insecure again, less than before, but the tone couldn't be mistaken. “What’s next?”

“I don't know”, Fabrizio shrugged. “I guess we’ll see?”

He moved a little to see Ermal’s expression better. Confusion. A hint of worry. But something solid and peaceful too. Fabrizio always admired how the most diverse emotions mixed on the man’s face in such a pure unique way that screamed Ermal.

“Yes”, Ermal sighed and squeezed Fabrizio’s hand. “We’ll see.”


	10. Prenditi le scarpe e riprendi la tua rabbia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once the misunderstandings with Ermal are finally solved, it's time to make things right with other people dear to Fabrizio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!  
> First of all, I want to thank everyone who supports me and this story, I'm very grateful to all of you 💜  
> I am extremely busy until July (I think?), so the chapters will come more or less once in a blue moon. But that's what I think now, who knows what might change (I never do)  
> The line is from Parole, rumori e giorni by Fabrizio Moro

Fabrizio slowly untangled his earphones as he walked down the stairs into the cool evening air. It had been a while since he had last put them on while making his way somewhere. Usually the street noise and accidentally stolen pieces of random conversations were his company. However, today he needed only one person’s presence. In front of his eyes he had a fresh memory of two gentle hands forming a heart beautiful in its imperfection and then waving him goodbye, and the soft voice he loved more than any other sound was quietly singing in his ears. Maybe his message of gratitude to the person who recorded Ermal’s performance that fateful night seemed a bit extra, and maybe he put too many heart emojis at the end of it, but did it really matter, when he held his breath each time Ermal hit a high note?

He nervously played with the strands of the scarf Ermal made him wear. It wasn’t cold outside, and Fabrizio hated unnecessary accessories, but the scarf kept a familiar smell, and he liked watching Ermal’s skillful fingers tying it around his neck.

_“I don’t want you to get sick.”_

_Ermal stepped back, looking at his masterpiece with a mischievous glint in his eyes that were seemingly staring not at the scarf and not at Fabrizio’s eyes but somewhere in between._

_“You know it’s also good for hiding… certain… spots…”_

_Ermal slowly tugged on the scarf and revealed a bit of skin behind it. For a second soft lips touched his neck, and Fabrizio had to focus on his breathing and try to find strength not to push Ermal against the nearest wall and show him all the things worth being covered later._

_“Do you want me to leave or not?” he smirked at Ermal._

_“Absolutely not. But I guess I have to?”_

Fabrizio slowly licked his lips. The implications in Ermal’s voice left enough space for very interesting thoughts. And just as fast as these thoughts appeared in his head they were gone, because the store lights were closer and closer. He was no longer walking, he was dragging his body, as if he was carrying heavy suitcases in both of his hands and their weight was pulling him down. With Ermal and Giada he didn't need to explain what he had done, but the guys had no idea for sure, Giada would never tell them without asking Fabri first. And she probably wouldn't have done that even if he was the one to ask for that. Sometimes she could be ruthless and stern, perks of surviving in the atmosphere of suffocating perfectionism and a huge baggage of others’ expectations on her back. However, she was right, there are things he had to do himself, and this is certainly one of them.

“Sorry, we’re closed”, a tired muffled voice came somewhere from the depths of the store, and Fabrizio chuckled.

“Good to know you're as friendly as ever.”

After a silent moment when he could hear only his beating heart and a few messy thoughts spiraling through his mind, two figures rushed to him. The owner of the tired voice quickly hugged him and then stepped back.

“See? I’m the most welcoming person in the world”, Andrea flashed Fabri a grin.

Meanwhile the other man that in the clear light turned out to be Alessandro stood quiet, observing his friend, scanning him from head to toe. Fabrizio wasn’t good at handling this gaze, it looked too pensive, too worried and more confused than he would like it to be.

“Yeah, it’s not my scarf, in case that’s what you’re wondering about”, he tried to sound as confident as possible, but the result was the exact opposite, now Andrea was staring at him too like he was a riddle both of them were aimed to solve. Only now it wasn’t as fun as when they were little kids and every mystery had a simple answer. Technically here he could form a short answer too, but his friends deserved far more than a blurted “I betrayed your trust and got wasted at ‘The Kraken’”.

“I need to talk to you all. Where are Claudio and Roberto?”

He paused a bit, doubting if he should ask for Giada as well. There was so much to say to her, and it would be the most awkward situation of she found them all gathered together except her. And with such an uneasy matter at their hands. Though Fabrizio could swear she won’t have come out of her office for at least another half an hour and not until she sorts out all the papers and writes down another note about how the sales are going.

As Fabrizio tore his gaze away from Andrea who went to get the two men, he met Alessandro’s expression. His friend was staring at him a little awkwardly, and for a moment Fabrizio wondered if he already knew everything and even made up his mind about it. The uncomfortable pause was getting too long, and Fabrizio had enough of silences for the past few days.

“Has anything happened?”

There was a possibility that Alessandro’s mood could be rightfully interpreted as him being anxious about something in his own life. The world didn’t revolve around Fabrizio, be it the world of his friends, his boyfriend’s or anyone else’s.

“To me, no. But I guess something has happened to you.”

That half-sentence half-question didn’t help Fabrizio in any way. In his life he learned how to hide his emotions pretty well except for certain situations, that’s why his anger scared people so much, it was the only feeling he was bad at concealing. A brief second of scanning the other person, and that person tried to find any excuse to get away, some did it rather smoothly, others were less skillful. For them rage and calm were the only states of Fabrizio, and it used not to bother him, if a glare was all it took to make unpleasant folks flee, why miss this chance? What neither of them knew, neither of these guys and girls who whispered behind his back loud enough for him to hear but not enough to understand, was that most of the time he only felt heaviness and the scratching in his heart at the thought that lingered in the back of his mind, a cowardly voice screeching he could be someone better at this moment if he hadn’t burned every bridge that led to another life, if he hadn’t purposefully ignored all the paths that looked safer and brighter than others. His friends, however, were aware of everything despite him not speaking about it directly. Will they see his determination to shape himself into someone with fewer sharp angles behind the burning shame and regret? Will it be enough for them to forgive him and understand he’s sincere than ever? Ermal would ask him to be positive, so he tried.

“Is Giada in her office?” Fabrizio gestured at the direction of the said cabinet.

“Yes. We have a new employee here, Danilo. He’ll mostly help her with the paperwork and financial matters, I don’t know much, we haven’t got a chance to properly greet him”, Alessandro winked and chuckled.

Fabrizio knew too well what a proper greeting here meant. As well as he knew that Giada wouldn't approve of it but wouldn't do anything to stop them from drinking games and crack covers of popular songs with questionable quality they heard on radio too many times. Though he remembered a few times when she participated too and played a few old Sanremo winning songs on their store guitar. Usually it happened when he returned to the place after a period of absence without contacting anyone, and this observation made him feel both love and guilt.

It seemed like hours had passed before Andrea finally came back with Claudio and Roberto. The soft smile and shining eyes of the latter one eased Fabrizio’s worries. Somehow Roberto always knew that in the end things will turn out better than they seemed, he was the one to say “see you soon” when Fabrizio didn’t know if he would survive another hour without a dose. The two of them very seldom had truly serious talks, but that wasn’t needed when a tight hug was all it took for Fabrizio to believe this night was far from his last one. Claudio was a different story, he had seen Fabrizio at his worst and did everything for this worst not to repeat ever again. He owed Claudio his life, no exaggerations.

“Should we get Giada here as well?” Andrea asked, eyeing his friends with badly hidden concern.

Fabrizio shook his head. He’ll talk to Giada later once he finishes telling what he meant to tell, reminiscing about the story she was a part of was already difficult, having her near would only make it harder.

He slowly exhaled, buying himself some more time, knowing all too well another second isn’t going to weaken the tight knot in his stomach or make his hands stop sweating. Nothing is that simple. Nothing ever is.

“I broke the promise I gave you”, he swallowed heavily and looked up for a moment before putting his head down again, he couldn't give anyone more than a short glance now, afraid of the shame in their eyes mirrored in his own. However, when he looked at Roberto (though he wasn't the one standing opposite of Fabrizio), he saw recognitIon flash in Roberto’s eyes, his mouth slightly open, his eyebrows arched.

“Yes, that one. I’m not going to defend myself and pose all innocent, but I couldn't hold it back anymore. Music, family, that soulmate shit, yes, you were right, it’s affecting me more than it should.”

He didn’t go into as many details as when he was confessing to Ermal. Some things were clear without saying, and he couldn't tell for sure he’d be able to handle another long monologue without tears. The least he wanted was to seem like he was asking for pity or expecting immediate forgiveness. Alessandro was the first one to break the tense silence after Fabrizio got caught up in his words and his mind went blank. Quiet, almost shy questions he knew he didn’t have to answer but he was grateful for. Roberto softly patted his shoulder when he finally had enough courage to start explaining what happened at the bar, Alessandro shared a side glance with Andrea, and a little smile danced on their lips at the mention of Ermal. Fabrizio almost groaned like he would've done any other time seeing this reaction.

“This is not me asking you to carry on as usual and pretend nothing ever happened. I won’t lock myself in my room for eternity if you’re mad at me, you don’t owe me anything. I’m here just because I _needed_ you to know”, he shrugged as naturally as possible, and in the small mirror on the wall it didn’t look half as bad as his previous attempts to appear calm. Maybe because this time he actually believed his own words.

“Fabri”, Alessandro started. “How about each of us asks you something and you answer honestly?” the tone of his voice was serious, but a hint of a smile softly formed on the corners of his lips. Fabrizio nodded. His eyes roamed over the place searching for a good point to focus on. The shiny buttons of Roberto’s shirt attracted his attention, and he settled on staring at them. Like this it wasn’t so obvious that he avoided looking at his friends’ faces.

“You know we don’t hate you, right?” Alessandro was the first one to ask, and the buttons were forgotten immediately. He expected anything but this.

Did he know? Probably yes. From the tiny step closer to him Andrea took when he almost started shaking as the memories were still too fresh and vivid, from the tiny gentle squeeze Roberto gave his hand, from the fact that they were standing here listening to him patiently while the darkening skies outside signaled some of them could already be home resting after a work day. From the fact they all confirmed Alessandro’s words with a side glance and a silent nod. And he nodded as well.

“And you know you can come here”, Andrea gestured at the group, “whatever happens?” 

Fabrizio bit his lips to fight back a hopeful smile that of course didn’t go unnoticed. The reaction satisfied Andrea, and he didn’t insist on a verbal answer.

“Since no one is going to address the elephant in the room…” Roberto dramatically eyed everyone and chuckled. “Fabri, when did you fall in love with scarves?”

Fabrizio groaned.

“That’s confidential information.”

“Aha, so it’s not scarves you fell for”, Roberto smirked at him, the look of curiosity in his eyes had some implications, but Fabrizio had better things to take care of.

“One question, one answer, that’s the rule. You won’t get anything else out of me”, Fabrizio crossed his arms and laughed at Roberto’s muttered “like there’s something I don’t know”. Fabrizio’s heart stopped beating so loudly and finally found the calm rhythm it used to have before everything had collapsed. His friends’ smiles, the same mindless tunes on the radio, the lamp that flickered a little and annoyed the hell out of Andrea, it was _right_. Not a fragile hope but a steady sensation of comfort.

As Claudio cleared his throat, the bundle of nerves that was almost untangled tightened again. No accusations or words flowing uncontrollably, no pointing fingers, he knew Claudio better than to expect this. Disappointment and indifference were what he feared to see the most, dead silence from someone who always had the right words.

“Grab a bite with us on the way home?”

That took Fabrizio off guard.

“O-okay”, he said weakly while twisting the scarf strands between his fingers, actually grateful Ermal made him wear this “absolutely useless” item. Of course, Ermal doesn't need to know that.

“So? I love the staredown contest, but my stomach doesn’t agree.”

A remark from Alessandro did its job, and everyone started moving towards their coats to be prepared for the chilly evening air, but Fabrizio stopped them.

“I’m going to see Giada, I'll be here shortly, wait for me outside, ok?”

Before he could hear an answer (now he didn’t doubt his friends would agree), he had opened the door he knew so well, the cold metal of the door knob bringing him a sense of familiarity, strangely comforting.

Inside there were two people: Giada, with a stack of papers and a pen in her hands, and a guy he had never seen before, looking at her attentively and frowning at her quiet comments. That should be Danilo. Fabrizio cleared his throat; Giada wouldn't notice an explosion when she was concentrated on work, and if Danilo was anything like her, Fabrizio had no chance at capturing his attention either. Giada gasped at the sudden noise and glared at Fabrizio’s smirk. Startling her was always too easy.

“Oh”, she said, still processing the situation, but then gained control back. “Danilo, this is Fabrizio, he usually works in the guitar section. Fabrizio, this is Danilo, he will be mostly working with me, but I guess you two will still see each other quite often.”

Fabrizio shook the man’s hand. Seeing a new face at his sanctuary made him a little nervous and insecure under the gaze he couldn't decipher yet. Danilo looked lost in thought, probably due to the information Giada flooded him with.

“Ok, I think that’s enough work for today. I expect to see you both tomorrow morning.”

Fabrizio tried to hide a small smile. Not often did he see Giada in the boss mode, though she had no problem with being in charge and respected her employees the same no matter how long they had been working in the store. She noticed his mood and smiled back but not without rolling her eyes first, when Danilo had already said goodbye and turned his back to them.

“So what brings you here?”

“The need to do the right thing, I guess”, he chuckled and nervously scratched the back of his head. An old habit he still couldn't get rid of. Maybe he’ll learn to control it once his other, more dangerous habits are no longer a threat.

“Don’t apologize, if that’s what you’re hinting at. I know you are sorry.”

“I want to fix it. It’s not an empty promise, not this time. I’ve already talked with Ermal and the guys.”

“So you’re making rounds?” she took his hand in hers and slightly squeezed. “And I'm the last one because you fear me?”

“In your dreams”, he dared to smirk. “I just want you to know I'm serious.”

“I know. It’s not me you should be saying this to, and you’ve told _that person_ everything already. It’s alright.”

“You sound extra happy today. Especially for someone with so many papers on her table”, he stroked his chin and curiously eyed her. Something in her tone was more relaxed than usual, and she looked more cheerful than ever in the last few years.

“Oh, nothing too major. Photography classes are going smoothly, that’s all”, she bit her lip to suppress a grin, but her eyes kept shining. “Thank you, Fabri.”

She stood up and threw her arms around him. He hugged her tighter and gave a peck to her forehead.

“Speaking of photography, I might need to make a few portraits soon, and I know a perfect candidate to be my model.”

“I signed up for this, didn't I? Though you’ll soon realise how bad that idea is, when you get a closer look at the face you’ll be working with.”

“I’ve been working with this face for years, and it’s a beautiful one. Ask Ermal.”

He could say Ermal’s opinion is biased just like the opinions of his friends, but Giada’s tone was too warm and his own smile looked too bright reflected in the mirror, he had no wish to ruin this moment with his concern and insecurities which seemed a bit less rational today for some reason.

***

The smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon was one of those that brought him memories, some pleasant and some unwanted. The small cafe with beige walls and polaroids of old cobblestone streets and bicycles similar to the one he had as a kid reminded him of the cozy place where Romina used to work as a waitress. Back then he tried to convince her there was no need for her to put herself in danger (their neighbourhood wasn’t the safest one for a young girl, especially for such a fierce one), but she insisted working was her chance to get out of this place and escape the dull future every teacher at school promised her whenever she dared to raise her head and voice her opinion.

“Didn’t know you were the type to meet for coffee”, Romina broke the silence and stared at her brother with the same glint in the eye she had when she was distracted by way too many different thoughts and needed to concentrate on her own words not to reveal what was on her mind.

“Just had an idea it would be nice to talk somewhere else. Your neighbours are likely to be sick of me. And Michele too, he’s just too polite to show me where the door is”, Fabrizio gave a short nod to the waiter who brought their menus.

“We’re all a family, you’re always welcome at our house, and Michele stands by it as well as I do. But that’s not…”

She paused. Fabrizio wished he didn't know what the reason of that pause was. They were two adults ordering at the cafe, of course, the waiter would bring them the alcohol card. Nothing out of ordinary. He didn’t notice that his fingers were digging into the paper, almost cutting it, until Romina put her hand on his and gently took the card away along with her own. Fabrizio was stunned as he watched her call the waiter and give him the cards with a smile and a polite remark that they won’t need those.

“Has Giada told you?..” he whispered as soon as he was able to shift his gaze from the waiter’s back to his sister’s face. She studied him attentively with a spark of thoughtful curiousity, a trait they both possessed.

“Only the basics, but I got the picture.”

“Are you mad?”

“Far less than you’re mad at yourself”, she looked him straight in the eye, so there was no doubt she meant it. “I really hope you didn't arrange this only to say sorry. And that you don’t think I’d turn my back on you because of that.”

They ordered. Fabrizio messed up a couple of times, pointing at the wrong dishes and missing the waiter’s questions, his thoughts being far away from the needs of his empty stomach. Romina only corrected him once, when the question was addressed to her as well, and he was grateful to her for helping without making him look like an incapable fool.

“Can you tell me more about father?” he asked after some time spent in a comfortable silence. She looked at him with confusion and raised her eyebrows.

“What do you want to know?”

“What is he doing? Is everyone else still with him?”

“Well, he’s working as a mechanic just like before. The job is tougher recently, but I haven't heard him complain. As for everyone… Do you mean Filippo?”

Fabrizio nodded. He looked down at his food without any intention of eating. There was an unspoken agreement between him and Romina not to mention their brother. Their brother whom Fabrizio left without a note or a warning, when he needed him the most. Their brother who trusted Fabrizio with his problems and concerns and who never got to hear about Fabri’s fears, because one of these fears was overwhelming his siblings with his own issues instead of protecting them. Since the night Fabrizio had left with a backpack, his guitar and A waiting for him at the nearest bus stop he and Filippo met only once, at Romina’s house, when Fabrizio decided to pay his sister an unexpected visit but instead came face to face with another guest. Filippo brushed past him without looking back, and Fabrizio didn’t have the guts to call for him. Even if he called, what use could be of that? He perfectly understood why Filippo was angry, and Fabrizio’s guilt was a weak treatment for all the hurt he caused his brother.

“He has moved, but he keeps in touch with our parents, and with me. He’s ok, he’s slowly coming around. He’ll visit us this weekend, maybe you can…”

“He hates me”, Fabrizio interrupted.

“He doesn’t. He just wonders if you care.”

Fabrizio swallowed. He cared, usually too much, but life proved countless times that his way of showing it was the worst. Would his sudden appearance in Filippo’s life bring his brother more pain than not being in contact at all? Another question to ask himself later, since asking Filippo himself was impossible.

“And mother?”

How formal. Fabrizio didn’t hold a grudge against this woman, she tried to help in her own way and after constantly getting pushed away she stopped trying. In her place he would’ve done the same, but the memory of her telling him to listen to his father and accept the colourless scenario of his future life they so eagerly named as the most suitable one still pulled the switch inside of him and changed the bleak nearly nonexistent affection to seething rage.

“They live together. That power is hard to break”, Romina smiled sadly, and if he didn’t know better, he’d mistake the resentment in her expression for pity.

He gritted his teeth and huffed, as usual in the end everything was about the power. Blaming Romina for her explanation was silly, what else could she have said when she was the living proof the system worked well at least in some cases? His parents fit each other perfectly. _He never fit them._ Nor did his siblings, but Romina avoided this topic and Fabrizio wasted his chance to know Filippo’s opinion. They were such a wonderful family on paper, an empty shell with no pearls inside. The day he got his mark was a celebration for his parents, they managed to call every single one of their many relatives to tell them about “Fabri growing up”, while he was hiding in his room, wiping stupid tears with his palms and desperately looking at the clock in hope it strikes midnight sooner, so his parents go to sleep and he sneaks out to finally get a breath of fresh air and borrow a few cigarettes from a classmate whose name he forgot long ago.

“If you meet them and say you never want to see them again, I won’t ever bring it up. I’m only asking you to try”, Romina gently stroked his hand with her thumb, bringing him back to the present.

“Careful, the whole cafe probably thinks we're dating now”, Fabrizio chuckled as he caught a glance from a man sitting at the table next to theirs. “Remember when your neighbour told Michele your lover was coming to see you while he was at work?”

Romina covered her face with her hands to suppress the giggle.

“You missed the best part! She said Chiara looks like you!”

Now it was Fabrizio’s turn to make a desperate attempt not to burst into laughter. Fortunately, that nosy old woman had already moved out, so her ridiculous accusations remained only a story from their past.

“Since you started talking about lovers”, Romina quirked her eyebrows, “Am I going to meet Ermal anytime soon?”

It was useless to deny, Fabrizio expected that question to be asked sooner or later. Not that he didn't trust Romina or doubted Ermal would stay with him for long, but something was eating him inside, hissing he was a fool if he agreed. Though in those months he knew Ermal his boyfriend proved him constantly this voice was not worth listening to.

“I’ll see what he thinks. Just no funny stories! And no unnecessary details.”

“Like these times when you couldn't shut up about how handsome Ermal looks and changed the topic every time I mentioned something else?” she gave him a challenging look and started giggling when he only sighed.

“Especially don’t mention that.”

“I bet he knows already”, Romina winked.

Fabrizio tried to stop his trail of thoughts, but the image of Ermal shyly averting his gaze and smiling so purely and widely at an unexpected compliment was too pleasant to push back, even if it earned his sister a victory in their little mind game.

“I hope he does.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for surviving this!  
> If you leave a comment, I'll die happy.  
> If you want to talk to me about my fics, metamoro or anything else, find my tumblr hellhole @enter-the-bear-circle


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